


Razzle Dazzle

by IcyPanther



Series: Ears Like Seashells (Not Anymore) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Injured Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance is a pretty thing, Langst, Lion Bonds, Lotor collects pretty things, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Touching, Platonic Relationships, Possessive Behavior, RAZZLE DAZZLE, Team as Family, Whump, emotional angst, kind of, of a sort, the voltron show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Lotor had planned to capture the Princess of Altea and use her to bring down the Voltron Alliance in one fell swoop. Instead he ensnares one of the human Paladins. But Lotor is not one to despair. He can rewrite the script and turn this tragedy into a real headliner. After all… the show must go on.“He is rather aesthetically pleasing,” Lotor purred, hand gripping Lance’s chin.  “Almost Altean, really. However,” a knife pressed below Lance’s eye. “He is missing something.” A shark-like grinned adorned Lotor’s face as dark ocean eyes widened in realized horror. “Come,” Lotor leveled the knife. “Let us see if red is your color.”





	1. Act I: Center of Attention

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline Notes:** Takes place during season four up through episode four, The Voltron Show (and where a lot of the inspiration for this was drawn). This means the Naxzela events nor Lotor’s generals turning on him have happened. Lotor is still most definitely our delicious villain here.
> 
>  **Story notes/warnings:** It’s me, prepare for my standard graphic imagery and violence. Non-consensual touching (not entirely a sexual nature though, think possessive). See tags for more. Gen fic, no pairings. Plenty of Langst complete with my version of Altean!Lance. Bet you’ve never seen it quite like this before. How dark does my mind veer? Answer: Very. Enjoy!

_Give 'em the old razzle dazzle_  
_Razzle dazzle 'em_  
_Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it_  
_And the reaction will be passionate_  
_Give 'em the old hocus pocus_  
_Bead and feather 'em_  
_How can they see with sequins in their eyes?_

_What if your hinges all are rusting?_  
_What if, in fact, you're just disgusting?_

_Razzle dazzle 'em_  
_And they;ll never catch wise!_

_Give 'em the old razzle dazzle_  
_Razzle dazzle 'em_  
_Give 'em a show that's so splendiferous_

_Row after row will crow vociferous_

_Give 'em the old flim flam flummox_  
_Fool and fracture 'em_

_How can they hear the truth above the roar?_

xxx

xxx

Lance’s head had just hit the pillow when the alarm blared to life.

Months and months ago when he first arrived in space he would have buried his head back under said pillow and ignored it, knowing it was Allura trying to keep them on their toes with another drill but he valued his beauty sleep over the non-stop training regiment the Altean princess loved ever so much.

A few weeks ago he’d have jumped to action, armor that he kept now in his closet on in under two dobashes and he’d careen down the hall, stumble a bit as he had to retrace his steps from Blue’s hangar to Red’s instead, and fly out to battle with guns blazing.

Now though…

He groaned, the sound so pitiful it hurt to hear, and exhausted ocean eyes forced themselves open. His body robotically tumbled off the bed and made for his closet where his last clean under-armor suit hung. His armor, dumped unceremoniously on the ground and covered still in blaster fire and nicks, was the next to be tugged on. His hands shook lifting the heavy breastplate and Lance clenched them tightly to stop the tremble. Not now.

He trudged out of his room, despite the urgency and the still screeching alarm unable to force himself to move any faster.

He was just so  _tired._

They all were though. The past few days – Three? Four? He had no idea anymore – had been nonstop fighting. Lotor had barely given them a varga of rest before the next attack was launched – a distress beacon on a planet, a robobeast of the Druid’s creations, an attack on a coalition base – and Voltron had been struggling to keep up.

They couldn’t get ahead. Despite all of their attempts they couldn’t make heads or tails of where Lotor was going to go next and they were forced to be reactive instead of proactive each time. Lance recognized it as a good strategy. An excellent one, really.  The fighting, the exhaustion, the constant despair of being too late to fully save the transport or planet or whatever it was… They were being worn down, chipped away piece by piece and there was nothing they could do except keep struggling on and praying it all somehow made a difference.

The Blades of Marmora were doing all they could to help but their own resources were spread thin. Keith and Kolivan had video chatted in… earlier in the day, Lance thought, maybe, and the former Paladin had looked as tired as they all felt, a bandage spread across his cheek and his mullet practically drooping.

Lance wished he’d had words to cheer him up but it had taken all he had to remain awake as Kolivan had filled them in on the most recent intel, not that it was of much help. They’d had to break off early anyways as the distress signal alarm went off again and Voltron had had to fly out to engage with Lotor and his generals once more.

That battle had… it had not been good. Lance winced, nearly tripping into a wall as his feet felt like he’d strapped boulders to them. Exhaustion was weighing heavily on all of them and it was making them slow.

Red had been hit by an ion cannon before they’d even managed to land on the distressed planet, as despite her speed Lance hadn’t been able to maneuver her out of the way in time. His heart clenched at the pained roar Red had screamed out as a hole blasted through her rear hull. It was miraculous, really, that she’d been able to land as well as she did rather than sending them into a freefall crash.

Lance had thought that would be the worst of it, but the universe loved to prove him wrong. Once on the ground fighting against a small army of sentries that the Galra just seemed to mass produce with no stop, it had taken a new near deadly turn.

Allura had been overwhelmed in her section, one second stretching her bayard whip into the masses and the next her shriek echoing over the comms as one of Lotor’s generals – Lance hadn’t learned their names but the big one who really liked to blow stuff up – had tried to apparently blow up Allura.  His hands clenched at the memory.

Shiro had fought tooth and nail to get to the princess’ side and Lance had joined him, picking off sentries with a desperate vigor as the large Galran female had made as if to take Allura away. They had managed, somehow, Lance was foggy on the how part of that, and had retreated back to the castle, leaving planet Scacad a smoldering heap and another mark of failure.

However, upon their retreat the Galran army had cleared too and Lance was sure that meant something but he wasn’t sure he was capable of even adding two plus two at this point – okay, that made four, he could still do that – to puzzle over those details. He’d just settled with relief that the Galra had left and hoped – prayed – for a reprieve. Just for a little while.

They needed it. Because of the constant fighting they had been patching themselves up as best they could with supplies from the infirmary as they could not spare the time for a cryo-pod and the pain was starting to show.

Lance was pretty sure that Hunk had cracked ribs even though his best friend stoically bore it. Shiro had already had to have Coran pop his dislocated right shoulder back into place and was barely able to lift his prosthetic let alone fight with it, which made his rescue of Allura all the more incredible. Lance allowed himself a small grin. Shiro had been… different since he’d returned to them, but his love for his team and his desire to protect them was as fierce as ever.

Pidge and Lance were a mess of bruises and small cuts and Pidge had been complaining of a building migraine that she’d been unable to shake. She needed sleep, Lance knew, but that was something in very, very short supply.

And now Allura had had no choice but to go into a pod. Lance hadn’t seen the wound but he imagined it was similar to his own run-in with an explosion and she had required the technology to heal. It was beyond not ideal because they were short not just a Paladin now but also their ability to wormhole. Coran said there was enough residual energy for them to jump once but that would be it until Allura was awake and Coran, looking as worried as Lance had ever seen him, had said that would still be nearly a quintant from now.

Red was also out for the count and Hunk, upon seeing the damage, had grimaced and said if he was lucky – and lucky meant having time and energy and the ability to move without wincing at every stretch – he might be able to patch Red up in two days.

They did not have two days.

They apparently did not even have two hours, which was the amount of time from them getting back into the castle from Scacad, as the alarm was going off again and they had no choice but to respond.

Lance reached the bridge, surprised to see that he was the second. Shiro, standing at the console with Coran, gave him a tight, tired smile.

The sharpshooter forced himself to go stand next to the other males as he knew if he sat in his chair he would not be getting up from it again. A moment later Hunk sidled in, slowly, and behind him was Pidge who had her visor on and darkened against the bright light of the bridge. Migraine was still bad then and Lance sent her a sympathetic look that she didn’t see, eyes closed and swaying slightly.

“Another attack,” Shiro said, as if it could be anything but. “Planet Nataea issued a distress beacon. Some type of robobeast. We’re going to need the Lions.”

“Red is still out,” Hunk yawned and Lance put a supportive arm around him to keep the larger boy up. “Sorry, Shiro. I—”

“Not your fault, Hunk,” Shiro cut in. “I know.” His charcoal eyes landed on Lance with a tired sort of intensity. “Lance, I’m going to need you to pilot the Blue Lion.”

Lance blinked, not sure if he’d heard right while at the same time his heart did a weird sort of clenching of joy and pain all at the same time.

“What?” he repeated instead.

“We need all the Lions we have available to fight,” Shiro explained. “Since the Red Lion is out of commission you’ll need to pilot the Blue Lion.”

“But I’m not Blue’s Paladin anymore,” Lance said, and it still hurt to say it. He’d loved his beautiful girl with everything he had. He understood why it had to happen, he really did, but when she’d shut him out with her particle barrier without even an explanation it had felt like someone had stuck a knife in his heart and twisted it. Even being accepted by the temperamental Red Lion had not soothed away that hurt.

He couldn’t face that rejection again if Blue told him no. Not like this, when he felt everything bubbling so close to the surface and run so ragged.

“She’ll let you in,” Shiro said with far more conviction than Lance felt. And he supposed Shiro could say that with confidence. Black had, eventually, let him back in after all. And unlike Shiro, Lance had never left his Lion.

His Lion had just left him.

“What’s the plan?” Hunk asked, his arm slung over Lance’s shoulders giving a small squeeze that Lance accepted gratefully and the ache in him lessened.

“It’s fast,” Shiro said. “We’re going to have to slow it down because with the Red Lion gone we don’t have the speed to keep up.”

“It does appear to be limited to the ground,” Coran said, his tone lacking the normal levity that Lance appreciated. The advisor was just as exhausted as the rest of them and seeing Allura hurt that badly had to have been hard on him, Lance thought.

Coran was saying something else but Lance tuned out, only to come back in as Shiro said, “Lance, you’ll use the Blue Lion’s ice abilities to try and freeze it to the ground, got it?”

“Got it,” Lance said, although the words did not sound like his own.

“Meet everyone outside the castle in five,” Shiro said. He gave them all what was probably supposed to be a supportive smile but it just looked too weary for that. “Nataea and its people are counting on us. We won’t let them down.”

He strode from the room with a confidence Lance sorely envied. He eyed himself and his fellow Garrison teammates, seeing the slumped shoulders and Pidge’s off-centered tilt.

“Come on guys,” he said, trying to force a note of joviality, “Let’s do this.”

Pidge nodded, winced at the movement, and Hunk gave both of them a gentle squeeze on their arms. As one they headed out of the room, leaving Coran to continue his observations on the creature terrorizing the planet.

They broke off in the hallway and Lance felt his heart thudding louder and louder as he approached Blue’s hangar. He hadn’t been here since she had rejected him. He hadn’t wanted to intrude on her growing bond with Allura with his own feelings. Blue had done what needed to be done and he couldn’t fault her for looking out for the universe.

He strode in, the particle barrier standing firm between him and the Blue Lion.

“Hey, Blue,” he greeted softly, hoping his voice didn’t shake.

She did not respond.

He rested a gloved hand against the barrier, the blue glowing brighter under the connection but not yet dissolving. “I know I’m not your Paladin anymore,” he said, hating the lump that filled his throat, “but Allura and Red are hurt. Shiro hoped… I hoped,” he said quieter, “that you would let me pilot you. Just this once.”

And to his relief the shield shimmered under his hand and faded away. Blue’s yellow eyes gleamed with life and Lance was surprised to feel her presence thrum through him – a longing, a hurt, a happiness – and he smiled while blinking back tears. “Missed you too, beautiful.” He straightened. “Ready to go kick some robobeast butt?”

An answering growl echoed in his mind and Blue lowered her mouth for him to enter the cockpit. He did so, feet clanking almost too loudly on the ramp.

His food stash was gone, he noted as he settled himself into the pilot’s chair. So was his spare blanket he liked to keep since Blue could get a little cold. Red had firmly balked when he’d first tried to sneak some cookies on and had become indignant about the blanket, as she was the Lion of fire and the idea that her pilot had wanted a blanket had seemed to offend her.

Just another change, Lance had sighed then, and done his best to accept it.

“Ready?” he asked, placing his hands on familiar controls and received an affirmative in his mind. “Then let’s do this.”

Blue took to the skies without the speed of the Red Lion, but with more of a playful leap that Lance appreciated given the dire circumstances. Red was always so  _serious_ but Blue, while still focused, was calmer in his head and Lance relaxed into it, even as he told himself not to get comfortable. It wasn’t like this was going to last.

The others were already in their Lions and Lance was hard-pressed to hide a grin at Hunk’s cheer as he and the Blue Lion showed themselves.

“I knew you could do it,” Shiro said and Lance basked in the light praise. His tone turned harder. “Let’s go. Time to remind them why you don’t mess with Voltron.”

They blasted off towards the planet, Blue falling into formation alongside Yellow rather than the lead that Lance and Red normally took. They cleared the atmosphere a moment later and got their first actual look at the robobeast that Coran had pulled up on the far range cameras.

“It’s ugly,” Lance commented. It looked like a giant centipede, the key word being giant as it was easily the size Voltron made on its own. It was a dark brown, providing it camouflage on the rocky surface of the planet, and Shiro was not kidding, it was  _fast._ Upon seeing them it reared up and seemed to almost flicker as it rushed towards them.

Lance barely had time to pull Blue up and away as the beast reared itself in front of them, smashing forward with a thud that shook the whole area. He yelped a moment later as it went for him and Blue again, extending itself to its full height and revealing that each arm sported barbs and a gaping mouth full of teeth snarled at him.

“Lance, stay out of its range!” Shiro ordered.

“Trying,” Lance ground out, barrel rolling out of the way. Blue didn’t respond as fast as he was used to and the slower movements were costing him.

He needed to stay lower too so he could try and freeze some of its legs when it made contact again with the ground as otherwise the bulk of its body shielded the smaller appendages.

“Come on, girl,” he muttered, gripping the console stick. “We can do this.”

Blue roared out her agreement and a burst of ice flew from her to strike the ground, a mere tick too late. They tried again. And again. And again.

Occasionally they would encase a small portion of it, but the creature was just too fast. Its momentum would free it (and sometimes leaving a limb behind in the process in a trail of green ichor that had resulted in hearing Hunk throwing up over the comms). But they couldn’t get a lock on it and time was stretching from minutes to half hours now and Lance could feel fatigue settling in.

Shiro and Hunk were throwing everything they had at it missile wise but the armored shell on top was too strong and the creature was shifting and rolling too quick for any lasting hit on its less protected underside.

“They always have a weakness,” Pidge growled although without the usual bite. “What  _is_ it?”

“It’s the stomach for sure,” Shiro said and Lance nodded his agreement. “We just need to get it to stay still long enough for a good hit.”

“You might want to hurry that idea up, Number One,” Coran sounded over the comms. “I detect incoming on the Blue Lion’s flank.”

“Seriously?” Lance griped, wheeling Blue about to see what was up. His eyes widened as he took in a too familiar battle cruiser speeding his way that housed a Galran prince. “Oh come on!”

That was all he had time for as Lotor’s ship opened fire and Lance got Blue’s shield up in the nick of time to catch the shots. He tried to pull away, to let Lotor go fire on the Black Lion as was the usual in this game of theirs, but the ship followed him.

“I could use some help here,” he called out, sending Blue into a nosedive that made the blood rush to his head to evade another shot.

“Swing wide,” Shiro instructed. “I’ll cover you.”

Lance liked that plan very much.

But as Blue shifted to evade another blast from Lotor the robobeast loomed large.

“Lance!” Hunk yelled out a warning but there was nothing to be done as it clipped Blue’s side and sent the Lion tumbling paw over tail through the air.

They hit the ground with a bone-jarring thump and Lance felt Blue’s pain through their link. He didn’t even have a moment to try and reassure her as Lotor’s ship was bearing down on them again and shooting blast after blast. The shields flickered under the assault.

“Hang on Lance, I’m coming!” Hunk bellowed. Lance would have expressed his thanks except that the robobeast came back for another pass and sent him and Blue tumbling again.

“You know,” Lance gasped, as he righted Blue. “I normally like the whole center of attention thing.” He dodged a swipe from one of the robobeast’s many arms. “But this is a little much.”

Yellow’s bulk slammed into the centipede and Lance took the short breather while Shiro unloaded at the exposed underbelly. The creature screamed, so high it left Lance’s ears ringing, before it flipped over and the beams reflected harmlessly off its back.

“Why are they targeting Lance?” Pidge demanded, breathless, as the creature did not retreat far and instead came back towards the Blue Lion despite her barrage on it.

“Don’t know,” Shiro’s voice was clipped. “Lance, how are your shields holding?”

“Not good,” Lance admitted as they flashed once more as Lotor’s laser fire connected.

“Get to the air,” Shiro ordered. “At least get out of range of the robobeast. Hunk, stay with him. Head to the castle. Once you’re in range have Coran open fire if Lotor follows.”

“Roger that,” Hunk said at the same time Lance chirped, “You got it, boss-man.”

He pushed Blue’s thrusters on to pull the Lion back into the sky and felt Blue’s relief at the action. “Almost done, beautiful,” he murmured to her. He still had no idea how they were supposed to take out the robobeast, but for whatever reason he was being targeted and if he removed himself from the fight maybe it would help the others.

His stomach clenched as he wondered  _why_ he was the target. Had he been deemed the weak link? No, he frowned. Allura normally piloted Blue and there was no reason to suspect he had taken her place. Just chosen at random then? Seemed a little odd for someone as calculated Lotor.

Blue dodged clumsily around the robobeast’s last attempt, separating him from Hunk for a moment, but he was already propelling into the air and soon would hit the atmosphere. Whatever the reason, he decided, it was almost done with and once they were all safe again they could maybe try and figure it out. He was too tired to think of anything beyond what was right in front of him.

Speaking of he glanced back out Blue’s front window from the rearview, just in time to see a ship materialize yards away.

“Quiznak!” he swore, jerking back on the controls but he and Blue were too close. They plowed almost face first into the large cruiser and Lance felt his brain rattle around his skull at the impact.

And then came the real pain.

He screamed as lightning seemed to sizzle and arc about Blue and the Lion roared out her distress. Dimly he heard the others yelling over the comms but his own cries were echoing in the space as the energy rolled off the enemy ship and sank into him and Blue.

Weakly he tried to jostle the controls, to pull Blue free of the ship that was causing them such pain, but Blue didn’t so much as twitch, her limbs locked by the energy and his own hands slipped off as a new pulse filled the cabin.

Everything seemed to glow yellow, so bright that Blue’s windows became reflective. He saw himself, blood dripping down his face inside his helmet and mouth opened in a scream beyond sound and face a mask of absolute agony.

And then he saw no more.

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yes. New fic. Think of chapter one as like, dipping your toes in the water before your friend (or enemy, really) shoves you into the freezing cold pool because that’s how quick this story is going to take off. It’s a short one (for me) of a grand total of five chapters and about 25k words. I’ll post about twice a week until we finish so settle in for a quick, hard, hot ride :D *sizzles* Again, please see warnings up top, but gen relationships for me as always.
> 
> The title, as you can see, is a reference to theatre and of course the song form Chicago, along with Lance’s quote from season four “Razzle dazzle time!” However; if you look at the original lyrics, “Razzle Dazzle” is actually quite dark. It’s all about trying to cover up something imperfect and make it larger and better than it seems. You can see why this speaks to me so much with Lance. Our boy isn’t quite that bad, but he does hide his insecurities behind his shield of bravado and laughs.
> 
> Drop a comment below if you're joining me for the ride. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks guys! (And hey, it's Valentine's Day apparently (this is what happens when you work third shift and you have no concept of time)! Shower your author with love by leaving a review!)


	2. Act II: The Price of Pride

 

Lotor strode to the loading bay of his ship with a swagger and smirk that he felt was wholly deserved. He had just crippled the rebellion and brought Voltron to its knees after all. A toast was in most certainly in order. After he'd had a chance to greet his guest of honor, of course.

It had not even been difficult, he mused, boots clanking down the hall while Narti followed like a silent shadow behind him. For all its lore and legend, Voltron had not put up much of a challenge. And how could it, when he gave them no quarter in which to do so?

The universe was made up of fools. Fools who put all of their faith in a single entity as though it would save them. A small band of heroes, he sneered at the word, who thought they were capable of turning the tides of a ten-thousand year war. The Paladins of Voltron were no heroes though. They were a small, ragtag group without the resources and support necessary to keep up with his constant barrage thanks to the backing of the entire Galra Empire.

Too easy. He could not believe his esteemed father, he let out an undignified snort, with all he had at his disposal had not previously been capable of taking them down. He had thought too broadly, too concerned with shows of power and might when he should have been wearing them down with small attack after attack, forced exhaustion making them slow and predictable. It was not quite the glamour Lotor himself would have preferred, but it had proven effective. His lip curled up. Yes, it had indeed gotten him what he wanted.

For there was one surefire way to end Voltron and the rebellion and she had been delivered to him now on a silver platter. He really ought to thank them for making the error of putting their treasured Altean princess on the forefront of the battle lines, making her so much easier to access than behind her castle walls.

The universe was made up of fools indeed. His father included. For when Zarkon had possessed the princess he could have ended it then in one fell swoop. Instead he had gotten greedy, that damned obsession with the Black Lion, and was now laboring on his deathbed for his troubles.

Lotor would not be making that mistake.

Voltron had but two options. Surrender completely and he would let them live out the rest of their short, miserable lives in despair. Or resist and he would kill the princess on the spot without batting an eye. Either way he won. The Voltron Alliance would crumble without their figurehead and it would be child's play to eliminate the last rebel groups.

"Sir," Axca slipped into step from an adjoining hall, one measured pace behind him. He inclined his head ever so slightly. "There is no sign of pursuit and Ezor accounted for all of Voltron's Lions prior to jumping."

"Excellent," Lotor smiled. "And our guest?"

"The bay has continued the crystal pulse rendering the Blue Lion inoperable and its Paladin unconscious according to our scans."

"Thank you, Axca. You may return to the bridge and ready the transmission feed. We shall be along shortly with the princess."

"Sir."

Lotor paused a moment later outside the bay door, elegant fingers darting over the keypad outside to shut off the crystal pulse so he and Narti would not be affected. Once it blinked to alert it had been neutralized he opened the door and strode in, hair flying behind him at the brisk pace he set for the monstrous metal beast.

It was lying on its side, limbs splayed like a broken marionette. It was truly a marvel of Altean technology and alchemy, he would allow that. But it had fallen before him as everything did.

"Narti," he commanded and she silently slipped past him to place several small bombs of Zethrid's design on the underbelly of the Lion ship. Lotor did not even flinch as they went off, his hair and cloak whipping wildly in the blast.

A gaping hole loomed up before him from the explosion and Lotor gracefully entered, turning right to head to the Lion's cockpit where his trump card awaited. There was no noise emitting from the front as the pilot should be well and truly unconscious from the pain, but Lotor drew his sword nonetheless. He would take no chances this close to his victory.

The pilot's chair came into view, its occupant hidden by the high back save for a limp white-armored arm hanging over the armrest. Lotor rounded the bend, prepared to cast his gaze upon the universe's last real hope.

But no Altean princess greeted him.

It was one of the human males instead, he observed, slumped unconscious with blood trickling down his forehead and staining the glass of his visor. He somewhat resembled the princess; tall and thin with a similar if lighter mocha colored skin, but he was most definitely not the prize Lotor had sought.

He would not bring the Voltron Alliance to its knees.

Lotor resisted the urge to curse, taking a deep, calming breath instead and his hand clenching on his sword hilt. What had changed, he wondered, taking in the boy's face tight with pain. All of their intel and experience had shown that Princess Allura was the pilot for the Blue Lion and she had been such just vargas ago. This human, Lotor scowled, was obviously a Paladin of Voltron but he was in the wrong Lion.

The red one, he realized after a moment of thought, recalling the face from the propaganda for the rebellion. Lance. The red Lion had been blasted apart earlier and this was its pilot, although he strangely wore blue armor, as he had during the shows Lotor had grudgingly watched. It was necessary to know one's enemy after all; a near fatal flaw of his father's, and what the Voltron Alliance seemed to forget was that  _anyone_ could tune in, even the enemy.

He'd learned many things from his forced viewing of the shows. For example, for whatever reason, despite the fact that the Princess Allura announced herself as such during impassioned speeches, she went under the moniker of Keith during the show.

Lotor was also not blind to the fact that not a single Paladin pictured ever wore the red armor. Keith, he could only presume, had been a former Paladin that had likely piloted the Red Lion. It might explain why he now found a blue-armored human in the Blue Lion if that were the case. However, he did not know what had become of this Keith despite his searches, but in the end it did not matter.

And all of his intel had been leading up to this moment, except that now he had obtained the wrong Paladin. But Lotor did not suffer failures after all and so this would not become one.

The Galran prince took another breath, calculating eyes narrowing as an idea slowly formed. He could still make this work. The boy might not have the same status as the Princess of Altea but he was a Paladin of Voltron and, as he'd seen from the propaganda, a popular one. A smirk pulled up his face. He could use that.

"Grab him," he ordered Narti and without a sound she dragged the human from the chair and flipped him over her shoulder. "Come," he said, already striding from the downed beast. "We have work to do."

xxx

"I can't find them." Pidge's voice was quiet and close to tears and it took all she had to not throw her tablet on the ground. "I can't find them," she repeated. "They're… they're gone."

"They can't be gone," Hunk implored desperately, swinging his head between Pidge and Shiro. "What about his armor? Can't you track it?"

Pidge shook her head, wincing at the movement. "The signal isn't there. I… I don't know…"

"Shiro," Hunk turned to their leader. "We have to find him."

"We will," Shiro said. "We'll figure this out."

He hoped so at least. Because right now they were floundering in the dark. What had seemed like a somewhat standard for them robobeast attack had turned into Lotor arriving on scene and both beast and Galran prince had gone after the Blue Lion with an intensity that bordered on ruthless.

Shiro had thought sending Lance with Hunk back to the castle to draw Lotor - since he seemed intent on soley attacking the Blue Lion - would be the reprieve they needed to figure out the robobeast and the castle could push Lotor off.

But a cloaked ship had materialized as Lance was trying to make the strategic retreat and he had Blue had crashed straight into it. Shiro had at first thought that was going to be the worst of it; just another enemy ship to combat, but then bright yellow light had shot out of the ship and wrapped around the Blue Lion and…

Shiro winced, pressing his flesh hand to his forehead as though that could chase the memory of Lance's agonized screams away. He had been helpless to do anything, pinned down by Lotor's now assault on the Black Lion and Pidge and Hunk had become the new targets of the robobeast.

They'd had but seconds to take in what was happening before the entire front panel of the ship that Lance and Blue seem to have been magnetized too opened and swallowed them up. The ship had blurred out then as it dashed to the planet's atmosphere to wormhole away and Lotor's battle cruiser had followed seconds later. The only good thing to come of it was the robobeast had pinned the Yellow Lion down beneath it and Hunk had opened fire with everything his Lion had left and the creature had collapsed, dead.

They'd wasted no further time rushing back to the castle so Pidge and Coran could attempt to pinpoint where the Galrans and Lance had gone, but they had had no luck as his armor and the Blue Lion seemed to be offline and all residual energy from the wormhole jump and already disappeared. Shiro didn't want to think of what could be happening to the younger boy right now. His prosthetic grinded as he clenched his fist.

"Why would they take Lance?" Pidge murmured, voice breaking, holding her tablet to her like some would a pillow.

"I do not think they were after Lance," came a pained if firm voice from across the bridge.

"Allura!" Hunk whirled around, spotting the princess being supported by Coran as she made her way to them, still clothed in the cryo-pod suit and a blanket thrown about her shoulders. "You're not supposed to be out yet. Your wounds-"

"I will manage," Allura interrupted, her face pale beneath her words. "Retrieving Lance takes priority and the worst of my injuries have been stabilized."

"What do you mean not after Lance?" Pidge asked as Coran helped Allura to sit in the Blue Paladin's chair and she hunched forward, clearly still in pain. "They were clearly targeting Blue."

"Yes," Allura murmured. "But who pilots the Blue Lion now?"

"You," Shiro breathed, pieces clicking in his sleep-addled mind. "They were after you."

She inclined her head. "I believe that to be so."

"Back on Scacad," Shiro said quickly, words spilling over one another, "they tried to take you. I didn't even think anything of it. I didn't… and now Lance is…"

"None of us are thinking clearly," Coran offered although guilt colored his tone. "We are exhausted and it is impairing our logic."

"This is my fault," Allura tilted her head down.

"Don't say that," Hunk admonished although she was somewhat right. Allura had known the risks of joining the battle on the frontlines but it had been a necessary one at the time with Shiro gone. And when Keith had opted to step down as leader and focus his efforts with the Blades of Marmora Allura had kept her role and no one had thought to suggest otherwise.

However, with the popularity of The Voltron Show and its universe-wide broadcast, her face and Lion had become well-known across the universe.  _Everyone_ knew the Princess of Altea moniker Keith piloted the Blue Lion.

It had just never meant anything until this moment.

"Why though?" Pidge asked. "Why would Lotor be after you? Why now?"

"The Coalition," Shiro said slowly. "It's gaining support. A lot of it. They need to quash it now before too many start to join to where they'll actually have to fight back."

"But you are our leader," Allura pointed out. "If the Galra wished to make a statement then-"

"No," Shiro cut her off. "I may lead Voltron but you, Allura, lead the Alliance. You're the figurehead." His eyes widened. "You're the statement."

"Or the bargaining chip," Hunk put in. Eyes swiveled to him and he continued, voice unnaturally serious. "Think about it. Zarkon already tried it once."

"But they don't have Allura," Pidge said, her stomach tightening. "They have Lance. And to them Lance…" She wavered, feeling a sudden pressing chill and she saw the same dawning understanding on the other's faces.

"To them," she repeated in a whisper, "Lance is expendable."

xxx

Lance awoke to muffled voices and a throbbing that seemed to extend from his toes to his aching head. He lied still, not sure what was happening but some instinct he had long ago learned to listen to told him now was not a good moment to alert anyone to the fact he was awake.

Because, as memories trickled in, he had the feeling he was not with friends.

"Strip him. I want the armor confiscated."

The words came from a clear, sharp voice that carried a similar exotic accent that Allura and Coran had. He was so focused on the tone that the words only registered as he felt a hand descend upon his shoulder.

Lance wasn't even aware he had reacted until his body was moving, rolling to the side and away from the offending hand, feet kicking out with force built up from years of playing fútbol and connecting with something that sent reverberations up his entire leg.

His hands pushed against the floor but before he could even try and lift himself up what could only be a clawed foot smashed against his back. It pressed down with such a force he swore he heard the armor crack and he gasped at the sudden pain.

Before he could even try to figure out his next move a second weight was added but this time to his head and if it hadn't been for his helmet his skull may have been flattened. As it was his nose smashed into the bloodied visor that obscured his vision. Not that it mattered at this moment as all he could see was metal floor beneath him.

"Well, well," came that voice again that made Lance's stomach curl with unexplained dread. "That was unexpected. I had thought a species of your strength would still be under the influence from the crystal pulses." A laugh, cold and cruel sounded. "Humans really are such fascinating creatures."

Something pressed on the side of Lance's neck and he realized that whoever his captors were had found the helmet latch. It unclasped with a soft hiss and the pressure lessened slightly for it to be removed.

Lance picked his head up, chin brushing the ground, prepared to… to demand his release or something of that nature in a way that would make him look like a Paladin and not the terrified teenage boy that he current felt like, but any words died on his tongue as he took in the person crouched in front of him.

Lilac purple skin with was framed with thick, white hair that had it been any other instance Lance may have asked what kind of conditioner was used to give it that almost glow. Pointed ears peeked out against the white and a set of yellow eyes with dark violet pupils gazed down upon him. But it was the smirk, a soft, dangerous thing, playing across the pointed chin that gave him the most pause.

"Lotor," he breathed. He had never seen him in person, had no idea what their enemy even looked like. But this could be none other.

The man smiled and it sent a shiver down Lance's spine. "My reputation precedes me it seems. However—" His hand darted forward and grasped Lance's chin like a clamp, dragging him to look up and making his neck scream at the angle. "I believe you meant to say 'Prince' Lotor."

Lance summoned up his best glare even as his heart was beating out a timpani into the floor. He wouldn't give Lotor the satisfaction of his fear. "I meant to say asshole," he corrected, words only slightly distorted from Lotor's fingers digging into his cheek.

Lotor to his surprise grinned, but it was not a nice smile. It was all sharp canines with a promise that its bite was worse than its bark. "I think I preferred it when you did not speak."

It was all the warning Lance got as Lotor pinched so hard he had no choice but to choke open a breath and in that second something thick and coarse was shoved into his mouth and then yanked back, grating into his cheeks and secured behind his head.

He tried to snarl as best he could around the gag as if that could tamp down the growing panic of what the quiznak he had gotten himself into. He couldn't let them see fear. He knew that, but  _Dios_ that was easier said than done as his heart raced and blood thrummed in his ears as he was forcefully silenced.

Lotor's hand moved to dig into Lance's hair, summoning reflexive tears to his eyes as his head was once more pulled back.

"Now," Lotor said, still with that same cold smile, "Let's try this again, shall we? Narti?"

The pressure on his back immediately disappeared and Lance would have taken a full inhale of relief that whoever this Narti was had removed their foot, except that Lotor had other ideas. The hand tightened more in his hair and then he was being dragged upwards to his knees.

His hands were still free, Lance realized, even as they hung limp at his sides. The rational part of him said it was beyond stupid to try and take a swing at the Galran prince when it wasn't going to lead anywhere but the other part reminded him that he was a Paladin of Voltron and Paladins didn't surrender at the first threat. They fought.

He had barely formed his right hand into a fist when something cold pressed against the back of his head with a sharp click and he froze.

"I would not do that," Lotor advised although he sounded like he would like to see Lance try. "I endeavor to see you keep your pretty little head a while longer. I have use for it and while it would work best attached to your shoulders I can alter my plans. Your life is forfeit at my whim. Do you understand?"

Lance did. Only too well. He knew where he fell in the grand scheme of things and he knew that Lotor could easily make good on his threat. As much as he hated it, he needed to not be like a certain reckless mullet and try to fight his way out. He'd be dead before he could stand.

Some type of acceptance must have shown on his face because Lotor smiled that dangerous line. "Now," he released Lance's hair and took a step back. "Strip."

Lance remained kneeling, fists trembling at his sides and heart racing as the command echoed in his head. He knew what this was. He'd read enough, seen enough, to understand the tactic, the vulnerability it created.

He wished he could play this off as he did most things. If he made a joke of it, made it appear as though he wasn't bothered by what was being asked, then maybe it wouldn't affect him so. But he'd already shown his hand when he had stopped fighting against the gun. And, he swallowed thickly, he wasn't sure he could force bravado in this situation at this point. It was an act, always an act, and despite the spotlight shining right now he did not feel capable of playing the part.

"I will not ask nicely again," Lotor said and there was a touch of impatience now. "Strip. Or I will do it for you."

After a long second Lance gave the shortest of nods. Apparently this was going to be inevitable and, he shook, he would take this small bit of control – although was it really control in this situation? But he could stall too. Pidge was hopefully tracking him as he knelt here and any second now the team would be crashing in and rescuing him from… from whatever this was.

He slowly brought his hands up to the back of his head, looking for the knot to the gag. But the gun pressed harder and Lotor clucked his tongue. "Leave that," he ordered and Lance hated the glint in those yellow and purple eyes as much as he hated the way he lowered his hands and felt hot shame coil in him. It felt too much like surrender, but he didn't have much of a choice.

Lance carefully braced one of his legs to stand and the gun lifted off his head. He took that as an okay and rose to his full height, which was still an entire head shorter than Lotor, who merely cocked his with a smile.

He reached for his arm braces, left arm first. He pushed the release lever and the forearm one raised slightly. He went to lift it off but his eyes widened as he took in the indicator lights that were most definitely not glowing teal.

His armor was not active.

Lotor seemed to sense his gaze and he gave a light chuckle. "Oh, did I not mention? Any technology has been rendered useless thanks to a crystal pulse."

Lance swallowed, nearly choking on the coarse cloth. It only seemed to entertain the Galran more.

He went back to pulling off the arm pieces, not in any hurry to finish. He placed both gently on the floor by his feet and from there set about releasing the knee covering and his lower leg guards. Those were joined by the upper leg ones and the boot coverings.

His hands hovered then on his utility belt, the third to last piece of armor left.

"Go on," Lotor encouraged, leaning up against the far wall in the otherwise empty room, feet crossed at the ankle and looking far, far too amused.

It fell to the ground with a dull clunk that made Lance wince and that only made him wince more at the fact he had done so in the first place. So much for even trying to act the part of a Paladin.

His hands were shaking now as he pulled the shoulder guards free. He held one in his hand, debating the odds of chucking it at Lotor. His aim was good. He knew he could hit the smirking face.

But the unknown figure was still behind him and armed with a gun. He wouldn't get more than a pace before he was shot and no matter how humiliating this was at least he was alive. That meant more than his pride, but even that knowledge was not enough to stop the shame.

All that was left now was the heavy chestplate, the first piece he had put on just vargas before. How had everything gone so wrong since then? He risked a glance at Lotor, finding that same pleased smile and irritatingly casual posture. What did Lotor  _want_ with him? He wanted to ask, demand, really, but he wasn't going to embarrass himself further by spitting out unintelligible sounds into the gag.

Villains always liked to monologue, right? The familiar thought almost made him smile, except the coarse cloth reminded him that wasn't such a good ideas as it cut into the corners of his mouth.

He just needed to stay alive until the team rescued him; that was the plan. And to do that… he took as deep a breath as he could around the cloth. He needed to do what Lotor wanted. Just until then.

He pictured his space family then as his fingers pushed at the multiple latches, feeling it pull away from his chest as the compression lessened. Their smiling (or scowling, thanks Keith, even in memory he looked grumpy) faces were with him as he pulled the chestplate and neck guard up and over his head.

"Drop it," Lotor ordered as Lance held it near reverently in his hands. Trying to muster up a glare and knowing it fell pathetically short, Lance did and this time at least prided himself on not flinching at the loud clatter.

"And now the rest."

Lance had known it was coming but the command froze him. It was just like the beach, the pool, he tried to tell himself, fingers tucked just barely under the hem of the compression shirt.

But it  _wasn't._ This was wrong and he felt sick. He wanted to raise his head, jut his chin out in defiance and tell Lotor he could not be intimidated.

He was though. He was and he was terrified by that. Lotor was not like Zarkon. Not like any other enemy they'd met. There was something… primal about him, a deadly conviction that lurked beneath the smooth face and made him feel as though he really was but a child that his age told him he still was.

"Fine," Lotor pushed off the wall elegantly with his foot. "Then I shall do it." He strode to stop just inches from Lance, who willed himself not to step back to put more space between them. He could at least manage that. "Hands," Lotor smirked. "On top your head."

Lance clenched them into fists instead and in answer he felt an all too familiar muzzle light on the back of his scalp. Lotor raised an eyebrow and arms trembling Lance lifted them, placing them palm down as though he was the criminal and Lotor was the police officer. It was wrong. It was all so, so wrong.

Lotor flicked a knife into existence and Lance did take a step back at that, more out of surprise than anything he tried to convince himself. The gun pressed harder into his hair and Lotor himself reached forward and gripped Lance's chin once more in his hand. "Stay," he ordered, like Lance was some pet.

Lance glowered but Lotor only grinned and then shifted his other hand holding the knife to pat down twice on Lance's head. "Good boy."

The knife came up again then, sinking into the raised neck of the shirt and Lance forced himself to remain still lest the blade slip and sink into his throat instead.

"You must be wondering," Lotor said conversationally, drawing the knife down Lance's chest and to his surprise not cutting into his flesh, "what you are doing here."

Lance said nothing. Wouldn't have even if he could. But he did allow himself a tiny, internal smile, because it looked like he was going to get that monologue after all. Typical.

"I will be honest," Lotor continued, having cut now to the bottom of the shirt and was pulling the split fabric open, sending cold air tingling across Lance's now bare chest. "You are not who I was after."

Allura. He'd been right. The thought did not comfort him. But at least she wasn't here. He could take comfort in  _that_  as Lotor rent the thick fabric by his right shoulder and dragged the blade to trace his arm all the way up to his wrist. Allura was safe. He released a breath and it gave Lotor pause.

"This pleases you," the Galran observed. "How interesting." He yanked on Lance's shirtsleeve and the entire thing ripped away with a tear, fluttering like a fallen banner to the ground.

Lotor turned his attention to its match. "You are an interesting specimen for certain, Paladin Lance." Lance startled at the sound of his name, eyes lifting from where he had been fixedly staring at the opposite wall to meet those glowing yellow.

"Oh, I know all about you." Lotor's hand went to pull on the other now cut sleeve. He smirked. "Lover boy Lance."

Lance's breath caught in his throat and he would have stumbled back save for the gun holding him in check.

"Yes," Lotor near purred, hands alighting now on the ripped open shirt and grabbing a piece in each hand. He pulled deftly and with a last splitting of seams the fabric was torn completely free and leaving Lance bare on top with only a spattering of bruises to cover him. "Lover boy Lance, a," he smiled, fang peeking over his lip, " _star_ of the Voltron Show. You have quite the fan base," he said, hands trailing down Lance's chest, coming to rest above his heart, which was racing so fast it could have been an engine motor.

"And no wonder," Lotor continued. "You are a quite beautiful, are you not?" One hand came up to cup Lance's face, long finger brushing over his cheek. "So brave. So strong, this Paladin of Voltron." His hand curled, nails digging into Lance's flesh. "And now look at you. Completely at my mercy."

Horror was filling Lance in two very different capacities as Lotor patted his cheek. They knew. The Galra knew. The Galra had been  _watching_ them. How had  _none_ of them ever realized that they were broadcasting straight into the enemy's living room?

Their terminology was fake, yes, but  _they_  weren't. Their formations weren't, their skills and abilities were their own. They shared location information with each live broadcast, shared their physical status based on who was or wasn't out on stage. They publically announced which planets had aligned themselves, including those just getting on their feet and helpless to a real invasion.

 _Dios mío,_ what had they done?

But that was paling in light of the current dread that was curdling inside him as Lotor's hands slid down his sides, nails raking sensitive flesh. What was this? He couldn't suppress the shiver as the knife sliced a line from hip to knee.

Lotor was  _playing_ with him. Like… like he was some toy. And he couldn't do anything about it. Not if he wanted to stay alive, anyway.

He should. Shiro wouldn't stand here like this, being literally cut out of his clothes without a protest. He would fight. He would remind them that you didn't mess with a Paladin of Voltron. Even if the end result was the same, if they had to restrain him to finish the job, Shiro wouldn't be so passive in this. He'd have kept his pride.

But he was no Shiro, and he was no leader of Voltron, someone of importance who was worth more alive than dead. He was just Lance, a child with a gun pressed to his head and too scared to risk his life for something like that. But, he tried to hide the sob, what was a life without honor and pride?

What did Lotor  _want?_

Frigid air cut across him as the sound of ripping fabric breached the room and Lance was left standing now in just his shoes, boxers and gloves, hands still pressed in surrender atop his head and feeling so, so exposed.

"Hm," Lotor mused, taping a long finger to his own chin, looking Lance up and down like he was a piece of meat, "Just one piece left."

His hands went to Lance's hips, resting on the navy spandex and Lance most definitely felt his breath hitch. He shuddered even as he told himself to at least try and not be a pathetic mess. One of Lotor's fingers slipped down the side, brushing against his hipbone and Lance flinched and earned a chuckle from the prince.

And then, to his surprise and relief, the hands left, raising to tip Lance's chin up so he had no choice but to meet that predatory yellow gaze. "You have been very good," Lotor praised and Lance hated the mixture of revulsion and shame that swept through him. "You may keep them." His grin turned into a leer. "For now."

Lance blanched and Lotor laughed again, caressing Lance's cheek.

"You are a beautiful creature, Lance the human, Paladin of Voltron. And I admit, I do enjoy the finer things life has to offer. Perhaps," his hand tightened almost painfully, "should you continue to endear yourself to me you shall yet live to see the end of this war, however quick it may be."

He released Lance's face and stepped back. "Remove your shoes and gloves," he commanded then, "and I will leave you unrestrained."

It was a game, Lance realized as the gun was lowered and he was allowed to bring his hands back to his sides. A game for the prince in which he and only he knew the rules and changed them at his whim to whatever amused him most.

It was entertaining, he was sure, to leave your captured enemy unbound , dangling hope and escape so readily but with all the assurance that it would not come to pass. It was humiliating in the worst way, Lance thought, as he removed his gloves and let them drop to the clothing-strewn floor.

His jaw clenched, only reminding him of the gag that he could so easily undo but yet could not. Would not. Hot tears sprung to his eyes and he blinked them back, kneeling to remove the combat boots and socks that made up the last of his uniform.

"Excellent," Lotor purred as Lance straightened back up, bare save for his shorts and the cloth trapped in his mouth and curving around his face. He stepped forward and this time Lance stood his ground without the encouragement of the gun, forcing his eyes to remain stationary as Lotor circled about him like a lion to a gazelle.

He stiffened as Lotor's hands descended from behind to rest on his shoulders.

"Come," Lotor whispered, breath ghosting past Lance's ear. "It's time for the show to begin."

xxx

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, yes, well. *toes curling* Anyone else?
> 
> To be clear, this is about as non-con as it's going to get and there's nothing romantic in nature going on here. Lotor just appreciates pretty things and Lance… well Lance is a pretty thing. Plus, he sees how uncomfortable its making Lance and a good villain (oxymoron?) manipulates a situation to their advantage. Lotor *thrives* on making people uncomfortable. Lance is most definitely not weak but he's realistic and he knows that Lotor would as surely kill him as let him live and right now is not the time to fight back. His best bet is to wait to see what Lotor wants and for the team to rescue him (somehow).
> 
> And you guys! ♥ Over 100 kudos and 30 comments? *covers face* Thank you so much. I hope I didn't let y'all down with this chapter. I've never been so nervous to post. If you're still enjoying the show, please do show your appreciation with a comment. Kudos are fabulous, but comments make my heart soar. I'd love to hear what you liked best! Thank you so much!
> 
> Also, plan is to update this Mondays/Thursdays and finish by March 1, just in time for season five :)


	3. Act III: And Then There Were Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning note:** This chapter is the reason we have a graphic violence warning in the first place. Final head's up.

 

They walked silently down the winding metal hall of Lotor's ship, Lance's bare footfalls on metal non-existent while Lotor's had a steady military clip, ushering Lance along with an encouraging hand pressed on the shoulder in front of him.

Narti, who Lance had realized was the blank-faced general with the creepy looking cat, led the procession, offering no chance of escape in that direction. Lance kept his hands straight at his sides even though he really wanted to wrap them about himself for the comfort as much as the warmth. Lotor's ship was frigid and if he hadn't been gagged he was certain his breath would be misting.

He resisted though. He'd already made himself look beyond pathetic there was no need to further the image.

Ocean eyes traced the few passages that they came across, but they all looked the same; cold and metallic and framed by purple lights. Even if he could somehow ditch the two for a moment he had no doubts that the entire ship was Galra-coded and he wouldn't get very far.

He was well and truly caught even under the guise of freedom with the absence of shackles. He almost wished he had been bound. At least then he wouldn't feel as though he should be trying to do something. Anything. The others would. Shiro would probably have already taken Lotor out. Keith would have had his luxite blade concealed and drawn it the moment unwelcome hands had alighted on him.

Pidge would have surprised them, more ferocious than any ever expected of the smallest Paladin, and taken the distraction to escape, hack a pod, and shoot herself off to the castle. Hunk would have used his sheer size and overpowered Lotor behind and taken out the damned cat before recalibrating some tech-thing and getting out of there as well.

And then there was him. The one who offered no resistance and no fight now. But… he cast his eyes to the side, catching the tail ends of Lotor's hair fluttering. The confidence that Lotor carried himself with was not born from stupidity but from skill.

Lance had never had a chance. Not with how he'd been captured; unconscious and exhausted and in so much pain from being shocked. His eyes widened. Blue. What had happened to his – to his former Lion?, he amended with a pang.

He cast his mind out, seeking any hint of her reassuring presence but no welcome purr touched him. Whether that was because she had shut him out again or she was not here Lance did not know, but he was most definitely on his own now. He prayed she was all right, wherever she was. That pain… he winced in remembrance of both his own agony and Blue's screams that had echoed in his mind.

Their walk took them finally to a large door that Narti opened with a flick of her tail and she continued silently inside. Lance found himself pausing on the threshold, knowing that something worse awaited him in there, but Lotor pushed him forward and he stumbled in.

There was another general there, the blue-skinned one that he had found extremely attractive once upon a time but that had worn off after she'd nearly gutted him during a battle. She looked surprised to see him and cast her glance beyond him to Lotor. "Sir?"

"There has been a change of plans," Lotor said smoothly, propelling Lance more into the room.

She nodded and offered no further questions.

"Sit," Lotor ordered, turning Lance towards a large chair set up in the center of the room. It reminded him of one he might have seen in interrogations in the movies; tall and imposing with straps on the arms and legs waiting for an occupant.

As soon as he sat in that whatever Lotor was planning was really going to begin. And although he knew it would only delay the inevitable for a few seconds Lance had had enough of playing the role of pathetic prisoner. He squared his shoulders and braced his feet, toes curling on the cold metal. He could at least try and act like he was a Paladin.

"What is this?" Lotor murmured and his hand tightened into a bruising grip. "Defiance?"

In answer Lance reached a hand up behind him, seeking out the knot to the gag. Lotor's other hand intercepted it, twisting down on his wrist with such force that Lance's legs buckled beneath him and his knees hit the floor.

"I do not think so," Lotor sneered, pressing his full weight and Lance's cry of pain as his arm was wrenched further back was swallowed up by the cloth. "However…" he felt Lotor bend down, his breath ghosting across Lance's ear, "it is a good look on you. Perhaps," his hand trailed from Lance's shoulder down his arm that had him shuddering despite himself, "we can use it later, hm?"

With no apparent effort Lotor dragged Lance by his wrist the few feet to the chair and bodily lifted him into it by just his arm. Lance's head struck the backrest and although he wouldn't have been able to do much the few seconds of disorientation allowed Lotor to secure his arms by his wrists and his feet by his ankles to the chair, the metal cuffs digging into skin.

Lance leveled his best glare, hating that he somehow felt less scared restrained like this.  _This_ was what he had expected. Whatever Lotor had been doing before had not been. It had thrown him, made his skin prickle and stomach churn. But here, now, tied into a chair, he at least had a general idea of what to expect. He lifted his chin. He could do this.

"I like that look," Lotor purred although he kept his distance, leaning up against a console. He grinned. "It shall be even more fun to break it." He turned to look at the blue-skinned general who was hovering over the main console panel. "Axca, are preparations complete?"

"Yes, Prince Lotor," she bowed her head. "Although Ezor—"

"Ezor is preparing something else for me," Lotor interrupted. His excitable general, besides having a skillset of violence, was also a rather brilliant engineer and assuming things went the way he imagined he was going to need her talents for the next phase of his plan. "You will be in charge of the camera now."

"Of course," Axca further inclined her head. "Whenever you are ready, Prince Lotor."

Lotor turned his gaze back to Lance who fought to keep it. "We're going to have a little chat with your fellow Paladins. Depending on their response we shall see what direction our script shall take." He smiled that dangerous line. "You've shown to be such a good actor though, I know you'll come through."

What did that even mean? Lance hated the confusion that swelled in him. What did Lotor want him to do? What did  _he_ want himself to do?

His eyes narrowed, decision made. His friends – his family – were going to see him like this; restrained and gagged and practically naked. They were going to be beside themselves with worry and fear and he would not allow himself to contribute any more to that than he already had. No. He would put on a brave face and try to reassure them that he was all right. Really.

Whatever Lotor had up his sleeve… he would figure it out. He refused to play into his hands anymore. He wouldn't let his family do so either. He would not be a bargaining chip. He raised his head a little higher.

Lotor stepped fully in front of him, Lance being greeted by a waterfall of white hair and unable to now see the transmission screen, and faced the console. He gave a regal nod at Axca. "Action."

There were a few ticks of silence as the signal was sent out and Lotor smirked into the screen as he awaited the Paladins to accept his transmission. Oh, they were in for a treat. He was honestly quite surprised at how well this was coming together given that not even a varga ago it had seemed like all of his plans had been ruined.

A sharp beep sounded in the control room and a moment later the screen shimmered to life and revealed the interior bridge of the coveted Altean castle ship.

They were all assembled, Lotor noted with pleasure. The Black, Green and Yellow Paladins were still in war-weathered armor and looking various degrees of angry and concerned. He let his eyes linger on the vaunted Champion, having never borne witness to the fights himself but intrigued nonetheless at how a mere human had bested so many of their warriors. In that steely gaze he saw that how.

But his main target was the Princess of Altea whose pretty face was pulled into a near scowl while an orange-haired Altean stood just a step behind her. The advisor and emcee for many of the Voltron shows. He had none of that joviality now.

"Greetings," Lotor smiled, "Paladins of Voltron."

"Return Lance to us immediately," Allura demanded.

Lotor chuckled. "I had thought the Alteans considered themselves a diplomatic race, Princess. Is that any way to begin a negotiation?"

"Is that what this is? A negotiation?" Her jewel-eyes narrowed and Lotor eyed them appreciatively.

"I suppose that depends on you, Princess," Lotor answered. "I am certainly open to the idea."

"Let us see Lance," snarled the Black Paladin, stepping forward threateningly as though he could will himself through the screen.

Lotor gave an elegant shrug. "Very well. As a sign of my good will I shall grant this request." Saying so he stepped slightly off to the right, revealing the human behind him. He delighted in the gasps of 'Lance!' from the screen and he cast his gaze to see what the boy was making of it all.

His face had softened, likely he had not meant it to, and his eyes were drinking in the images of the other humans and the Alteans. Lotor licked his lips. He liked that look too; so open and innocent. Humans really were surprising creatures and this Lance was by far his favorite.

But that was enough. Lotor stepped back to eliminate his prisoner from their sight. "As you can see," he said, tossing back his hair, "your precious Paladin remains unharmed. Whether he stays that way is up for debate."

"What do you want?" The words were spoken like ice but Lotor did not miss the subtle tremble to the Princess' shoulders. Ah. That explained so much.

"You are hurt, Princess," he said instead. She only lifted her chin, not denying it. He admired the sweep to her jaw and the glint in her gaze. He almost preferred this route now. He'd have hated to see such beauty reduced to a spray of lifeblood even though that would eventually be her fate.

"You see," he continued, "my original intent was to have you, my dear Altean princess, as my esteemed guest. I had hoped to broker a trade amongst our parties with your presence." He grinned. "Your life for the complete surrender of Voltron and its allies, of course."

"You think too much of my life," Allura glared even as the several of the others behind her shifted uneasily.

"Perhaps you think of it too little," Lotor countered. "You are a treasure, Princess. Do not be so hasty to eliminate your value. That said," he shrugged, "if you feel that the life of a princess is not worth the complete surrender of the Coalition then I fear this boy's most definitely is not and as thus my original offer is now off the table."

"What do you want?" Allura repeated.

"Nothing you can offer."

Lotor gave that all of a tick to sink, gleefully watching as cold rage stole across the Altean princess' face.

"You will return Lance to us now," she commanded. "Or you will not live to regret it."

"Now let us not be so quick to such violence, Princess. I told you I wished to have an Altean here for trade. I would be willing to discuss some type of compensation for your Paladin's life, dependent of course on the presence of one such Altean."

"But…" Allura's eyes darted between herself and her advisor, who looked just as confused. Lotor delighted in it.

"Luckily for the fate of young Lance here I have a solution to this problem." Lotor felt a shiver of anticipation snake down his spine. He stepped back to reveal Lance once more. "I shall just have to make one."

Lotor was not sure who he wished to gaze upon more for his bomb drop as the insinuation became clear.

His human prisoner did not disappoint. His eyes had widened and he was pressed back against the chair, a tremble to those long limbs that made Lotor shiver again himself. Oh yes. This plan was going better than even he could have anticipated.

He turned his sights back to the transmission, a little disappointed that there did not seem to be the panic he had expected. Perhaps they did not fully understand.

He could fix that.

"You see," Lotor palmed one of his knives to his hand and let its sharp glint take center stage. The advisor took a shuddering breath. One down.

He crossed the room, trusting Axca to zoom in on his new location, and placed himself so that he stood in front of Lance and the camera shifted to take in their profiles.

"He is rather aesthetically pleasing," Lotor purred, hand reaching out to grip Lance's chin and jerking his face up. The hot glare that still could not hide the fear leveled at him only made his smile widen. "Almost Altean, really."

And now the rest of the Paladins were reacting, gasps and horror racing through their ranks.

"Lotor," snarled Champion and Lotor ignored him, his eyes only for the human boy who was trying so hard to muster up some sort of bravado.

"However," the Galra prince continued, "He is missing something."

Those beautiful deep blue eyes widened as Lotor placed the tip of the blade just beneath one of them and Lotor felt the human's breath hitch even around the gag. "You see," he said almost conversationally, ignoring the protests coming from the console screen that Axca had so kindly lowered the volume on, "Alteans have these markings showcasing their supposed superiority."

"Lotor, stop!" he heard Allura beg. He liked that.

But he liked the fear shining up at him even more. It was intoxicating, this shade of blue. He had never anything like it.

And now it was all his.

He leveled the knife with a shark-like grin below one of those beautiful orbs. "Come," he whispered, "Let us see if red is indeed your color."

Lotor was not gentle. He pressed the knife tip into the boy's cheek, tracing out an oblong crescent and deepening it with each pass. The human jerked and Lotor had to use his other hand to press it against the bottom half of the head to keep him stationary. He didn't want to mess this up after all.

"Please!" screamed the Altean princess. "Please stop!"

Lotor did not.

The human was crying almost silently now, tears dripping and mingling with the welling of blood and sending red lines down his cheeks. Muffled whimpers were emitting from behind the gag and the beautiful eyes had scrunched themselves closed.

That would simply not do. Lotor wanted to see them, see the fear and pain reflected out at him. He smiled. He had just the thing.

Lotor placed the knife tip on the corner of the outline he had made, digging it into the tender flesh and the human finally made a noise above the little whimpers then, trying without success to fling his head back as though that would let him escape.

"Oh dear boy," Lotor whispered, thumb caressing the lower jaw. "We have only just begun." And with that he ripped the knife through the flesh as easily as one would shave off a piece of butter.

Layers of skin flew off leaving behind a missing chunk of flesh cut into the perfect shape of an Altean's facial markings. It immediately welled with blood that poured down the mocha cheek.

And the scream. Oh. Lotor almost closed his own eyes in ecstasy as Lance's eyes flew open in such shock and pain, and even muffled the shriek was so pure in its agony. Their gazes met and there was no bravery there, no hope, no innocence.

There was only stark fear and Lotor drank it in like the finest of wines. He caressed Lance's cheek one last time before he withdrew, letting the boy slump forward as his tears continued to push the stain of red further down his face.

"Lotor!" Champion was raging, pressed up as close he could get to the video screen and Lotor gestured for Axca to bring the volume back to level.

"Please, Champion," he sighed. "Manners. It is Prince Lotor."

"Prince Lotor," Allura put forth and he smirked. Finally. Although if she thought using his title would sate him she was sadly mistaken. "Please. Stop this. He is just a boy."

"A beautiful one," Lotor agreed. "Being made even more so."

"Lotor—"

"Do not think to sway me with your concepts of age, Princess. He is a Paladin of Voltron, is he not?" He reached over and locked his hand into the fine brown locks and pulled the boy's head up to face the camera, relishing in the way the human flinched at the cacophony of his friends calling his name and was unable to meet their gazes. "He put on the armor and prepared to go to war," Lotor said, giving Lance's head a shake and receiving a groan in response. "He is no child."

"What do you want?" Allura tried again and he admired her tenacity, truly.

"I want to get back to making my Altean," Lotor grinned. "Let us put this conversation on hold for a moment, hmm?"

Axca near-muted the audio again and Lotor turned to the upended face, eyes closed once more but tears still brushing against long lashes.

"Lance," he called voice near tender and those dark orbs peered open. His voice turned harsher. "This may hurt a little."

He slammed the boy back against the chair, this time holding him steady with his hand splayed over the forehead. Lance attempted to shift his head for all the good it would do, but the tips of Lotor's fingers clenched down painfully in his hair and he stopped, a choked sob shaking his body.

"There there," Lotor comforted, brushing the back of his hand against the yet unmarred cheek. "It's all right. Just remember, you wanted this. You took the Princess' place and were so relieved to do so. This is merely the consequence of that action."

He brought the knife back up, pressing it as sure as a mirror image under the boy's left eye and dug into the tender flesh. The human arched under his hand but he could not move Lotor's iron hold. Nearly humming with delight Lotor carved out the twin marking, digging deep into the tissue.

The human shuddered with repressed sobs as Lotor finally released him only to regrip his chin and turn his head this way and that, surveying his handiwork with the pleased smile of a master craftsmen.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning Lance to fully face the camera where a cluster of horrified Paladins stared at him. "I do think red suits him quite well. A shame for him he was not in such a Lion to avoid all of this."

"Lance…" Allura whispered, her hand outstretched towards the screen, the word dripping with guilt and horror.

"You've finished now," Champion said, his voice shaking. "Let's talk."

"Finished?" Lotor repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, Champion, how mistaken you are."

Lotor felt Lance tremble at the announcement and he brushed his thumb once more over the jaw, smearing blood and tears.

"For you see," he continued, heading off any words the Paladins might have tried to say, "there is another feature all Alteans have." His hand slid up Lance's cheek, brushing aside long bangs and lightning upon Lance's ear. "And this," he said, tracing the round curve, "is hideous."

Allura let out a noise somewhere between a wail and a sob that was only matched by a muffled one of Lance's own, his eyes blown open wide.

"Narti," Lotor called and his silent general appeared on the other side of Lance's chair. "Would you be so kind?"

She nodded and a moment later her hands, larger than Lotor's, had taken the place of the prince's own. One pressed against the boy's head and the other against his chin, holding him flush against the chair. Lance whimpered, a pathetic,  _delicious,_ sound and his eyes sought out Lotor's a plea, a prayer shining in them.

"You are truly precious," Lotor murmured and he rubbed his thumb below Lance's eye to wipe away the lingering tears. "This pains me more than it does you, but it must be done. I will only broker a trade with an Altean after all."

"Lance!" Champion was yelling again but unlike the harsh tones of before these ones were desperate. "Lance, look at me."

Lotor allowed it, drinking in the sight as Lance's tear-lined eyes went to the front of the screen, gazing over Narti's large hands. So precious. So  _beautiful,_ this raw agony and despair. He went back to selecting the perfect knife while keeping an eye on the proceedings. The desperation was so lovely too.

Lance tried to ignored Lotor, tried to ignore the hands pinning his head and focus only on the figures on the screen. Shiro was pressed as close as he could get, hands gripping the back of the console chair and part of it crushed beneath his prosthetic. Allura had been wrapped up in Coran's arms and tears were streaking down her cheeks but she looked no less fierce for them. Pidge and Hunk were clinging to one another, Hunk nearly hiding Pidge as though he could shield her from the violence and Lance felt guilt pool hot and heavy at the utter fear painted on their faces. He'd done that.

He didn't want them see this. Not Hunk, still so pure and innocent despite this war. Not Pidge, more of a kid than even him who had seen too much already. He moaned low in his throat.

"Lance, look at me," Shiro repeated and Lance brought his eyes to meet Shiro's intense charcoal that shone even through the transmission screen. "Just focus on us, all right?"

He was peripherally aware of Lotor flicking a new knife into his hands and he shuddered, feeling new tears drip down his cheeks.

This was really happening, wasn't it? Lotor was going to… to… His stomach swam this time with nausea and he tasted acid at the back of his throat that he had to choke back down as it had nowhere else to go.

"Lance," whispered Allura. "Lance I… I am so sorry."

And he didn't blame her. This wasn't Allura's fault. If she had been here… He winced. If she had been here then she could have – would have – been dead. Without Allura , no matter how little of importance she said she had, Lance knew better. They all did. Without Allura there was not just no coalition but there was no hope.

No. If this had had to happen… Lance swallowed. Then he was glad it was him. He would spare the others this pain, this humiliation, if he could.

Metal against metal shrieked near his ear and Lance flinched, going nowhere thanks to the general's hand.

But just because he accepted it did not mean he was not absolutely terrified. His eyes darted to the right where Lotor was eyeing his newest project and he felt new despair threaten to drown him.

"Lance! Lance look at us," Shiro demanded and Lance dragged his gaze forward once more. He flicked it to Pidge and Hunk, hoping they might understand.

"We're not going anywhere," Hunk choked out, his honey eyes meeting Lance's. "We won't, Lance. We're right here."

Something cold touched the tip of his ear and Lance recoiled, eyes squeezing shut.

"Lance, look at us," Allura pleaded and he met her jewel-bright eyes, blurred with his own tears. "It is going to be all right. It is—"

Blinding pain erupted, fire and ice all at once and Lance screamed as loud as he could, eyes rolling back and he heard matching screams coming from the console.

"Lance," Hunk sobbed over the rest.

Lotor was not done though. Another lightning slice had his vision flare white and Lance heaved as the heavy copper of blood – more even then Lotor's earlier ministrations – filled his senses and he felt something hot and sticky dripping down the side of his face.

"Hmm," he barely heard Lotor murmur the sound of his own muffled screams. "I did not quite think this through. Axca, do you have a flare?"

Lotor's sick golden eyes swam into his vision a moment later. "I'm nearly done with this one," he said pleasantly. "Bear with me for just a moment longer. I need to seal it up now."

"Lotor you  _praxia!"_ Allura's voice was primal rage. " _Tela_   _praxia adstis mavalia sokan!"_

And then there was an inferno and Lance's shrieks renewed in their intensity as he saw blue-white flames next to his head and the scent of burnt flesh filled the air. It was too much.

The flames grew brighter and brighter until white was all he saw. And with one last scream everything disappeared.

Lotor blinked as his favorite human went completely limp in Narti's hold. Perhaps the flare had been a bit much. He'd wanted him to suffer, not faint.

"Axca," he called as the screaming on the monitor grew louder and the Princess' insults grew more and more creative. "Could you mute them? Entirely?

Blessed silence filled the room and Lotor let out a sigh of relief. "Much better." He gazed down at his handiwork, fingers tracing the new outline of the human turned pseudo Altean. It did not have the elegant curl of a real Altean's ear and the outer ring had been nearly eliminated, however cauterizing it had given it a gentle edge that came to a full point at the tip. The reddish brown edges as well nearly matched the removed flesh from the face.

It really was quite beautiful.

His hands traced over the boy's cheeks, gathering more of those translucent tears to his fingers. After a second of thought he pulled the gag free of the boy's mouth, letting it pool around his neck instead and he found his hands tracing over the newly exposed skin, the blood and tear streaks quick to claim the untainted flesh for their own.

"I suppose we should finish the set," Lotor mused aloud to himself, shifting around the unconscious figure and setting up on Lance's other side. He tapped Lance's right cheek, firmer when the first did nothing.

He resisted the urge to scowl. This was not quite as much fun if the subject was not awake to enjoy the event. Axca, efficient as ever, handed him a small syringe that contained an adrenaline shot the crew sometimes used on long missions. Perfect.

He emptied the full syringe into the human's neck, not caring whether the dose would be too much for such an alien species. It was unlikely he would live much longer anyways. But, Lotor smiled, his death would be the epitome of brilliance. A standing ovation for sure.

Lance came to with a gasp and a shudder which morphed into a low keen that sent the most wonderful shivers down Lotor's spine. He had done that.

Dark, hazy eyes pried themselves open and Lotor loved the moment reality set back and the sob that tore out of the boy's throat.

"Welcome back," he murmured. "You are nearly complete."

"W-why?" Lance choked out, voice hoarse and scratchy,

"Must there be a reason?" Lotor asked.

The boy only moaned.

"I have given you your voice back," Lotor continued. "Your friends shall remain muted until we are ready to negotiate your possible release, but please, feel free to scream as loud as you'd like." His hand traced the last rounded human ear. "I long to hear it."

Narti returned to her place at the cue, certain to angle her long fingers so that the boy's soft pink lips remained free but he was otherwise immobilized. The ocean eyes had closed again but it was all right. His screams would more than make up for it.

Lotor did not give any warning. He merely sliced through the cartilage with a measured move. But there was no resulting cry, only a gasp and a groan and Lotor cast his eyes over with a frown.

"I said," he repeated, raising the knife for the second cut. "I wish to hear your screams."

This cut produced a strangled version of one as blood gushed, but the human was trying to contain his pain, eyes scrunched closed and blood leaking out of his gasping mouth. Must have bit his tongue, Lotor observed. He admired it, truly, this newfound determination to do the exact opposite of what was requested. It would make the victory all the sweeter.

"Very well," Lotor said, picking up his flare. "Let us see how you fare now."

The resulting cry that broke free a second later was music to his ears. There were not any words to it. Just pure, piercing agony that warmed him from the inside out.

"Yes," he murmured, tracing the flare down the flayed flesh. "Scream just for me."

The boy dissolved into wrenching sobs and that delicious keen of a wounded animal begging for mercy. He could have listened to it all day.

Alas, he had plans to make and schedules to keep. It was time to keep this production moving.

He straightened to his full height gave a nod to his first general, whose face was carefully blank. Unlike some of his generals, Axca was not prone to large displays of violence. But she said nothing to his methods and he expected nothing less.

Axca gave a return inclination and unmuted the audio.

"Paladins," Lotor spoke, his voice silencing Lance to muffled sobs and garnering every eye in the video. "I am now ready to discuss negotiation terms."

"You are a monster," Allura whispered, trembling in her advisor's hold and much of the fire dampened by her tears.

"Lance," the large Yellow Paladin called, bypassing Lotor completely and the prince was not certain if he should take offense. "Lance, can you hear me?"

Lance slowly lifted his head and his gaze met that of the large human. "H-Hunk," he whimpered.

"Ahem," Lotor coughed. He refused to be upstaged. "My terms. I now have an Altean… of a sort," his lips quirked up, "that I am willing to trade."

"What do you want, Lotor?" the Altean princess asked, her voice heavy with resignation and guilt.

"A life for a life," Lotor said simply. "I think that more than fair bargain."

" _Whose_ life?" Champion growled.

"Yours."

Lotor's grin widened as the Black Paladin sucked in a harsh breath.

"I shall trade you my Altean," Lotor caressed his hand down the side of Lance's face and was immeasurably thrilled when despite a shiver the human didn't even try to pull away, pain and exhaustion having worn him down, "for the Arena's Champion."

"We cannot do that," Allura said and at her words Lotor felt the last bit of whatever had been keeping his toy hopeful drain away. "I request a renegotiation."

"Those are my terms," Lotor said. "Of course, I am also willing to offer my original trade. The complete surrender of Voltron and its allies for this boy's life."

"We cannot do that," Allura repeated and there was a waver in her voice. She shifted her gaze from Lotor's to the human in his grasp. "Lance…"

Those mesmerizing blue eyes opened and looked dully at the screen. "I know," he rasped. "I… I know. I…" he swallowed a sob. "I understand."

Lotor was not sure if he had ever loved a creature more.

"Allura, no," the one called Hunk protested. "No!"

"I'll go," Champion said and Lotor felt the boy start. "I'll go."

"No."

The declaration came from Lance, eyes clearer and focused on the Black Paladin. "Shiro, no. You can't."

"Lance—"

"I'll… I'll be okay." Lotor could taste the lie and he sighed with bliss at this stunning creature he had in his grasp. "I'll be okay," he repeated. "Just… just take care of yourselves. P-please."

"Lance, no," the Yellow Paladin sobbed. "You  _can't."_ Lotor resisted the urge to snort. As if his human had any choice in the matter.

"This is very touching and all," Lotor cut in, to ward off any more words not directed to him as they should be, "but the trade window is now closing. What shall it be, Princess?"

"We will rescue you, Lance," Allura promised instead. "We will come."

Lotor laughed. "You misunderstand Princess. I am not my father. There will be no attempted rescue here." He brought his bloodstained knife around and placed it against the slender throat, smiling at the horrified noises on the other side of the screen. "Since you have declined to participate in this trade his life is mine to do with as I please. And…"

He pressed the blade against the vulnerable flesh but did not sever it as he would have with the princess. He could almost hear the collective confusion of not just the Paladins but from Axca as well. Narti remained as impassive as ever.

"And he is to be my entrance into the theatre business," Lotor finished, looking up at the camera with a grin. "He shall have the lead role in my production that I think I shall call… 'The End of the Voltron Show." His grin morphed into a sneer at the sharp inhales of surprise.

"Tell me, Princess, did you honestly believe we would not be watching? That we would not take every opportunity to learn about your band of misfits and how you worked? Hmm?"

He saw the same truth in all of their faces that had been displayed in Lance when he revealed his knowledge of the propaganda. The orange-haired advisor looked absolutely stricken.

"You use your little show to gather support, do you not?" he asked. "For your  _cause._ You promise to protect the planets that join with your coalition, to keep them safe from the evil Galra Empire in exchange for their support.

"Well," he dug the knife ever so slightly into Lance's neck and a think trickle of red dripped down. "I've decided to make a sequel. It goes something like this: How does Voltron's support stand when their allies see that they cannot even save one of their own? Will they still flock to aid you and announce their allegiance? Will they dare to turn against the Empire when they see how  _weak_ Voltron really is? I believe the answer to all those questions is clear."

"No," the princess breathed. Her gaze flickered between Lotor and Lance. "No."

"You have made your own grave, Princess," Lotor sneered. "Now go die in it. Before that though, I do hope you can tune in to see Lance's final show."

With a flick of his hand he released all of the restraints binding Lance to the chair and pulled the boy to standing none too gently by his hair, keeping the knife pressed to the neck and positioned the human in front of him.

His hand went from the boy's hair and trailed its way languidly down the mocha shoulder, tracing the slender torso and finally letting his hand rest possessively on the swell of the hip hidden underneath dark shorts. Lance shuddered in his hold but did not try to pull away as the knife only dug deeper into his skin.

"It will be," Lotor grinned, "truly a one of a kind performance."

xxx

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instructions for your own DIY Altean: Supplies needed: One human, a good knife, some type of cauterizing agent and a sick sense of humor. Process: See above. Use of gag and anesthetic optional. Only to be done under author supervision, do not attempt on your own. Author not responsible for legal ramifications.
> 
> So. Yup. This idea is what prompted this entire fic. I have never gotten behind the Altean!Lance thing but this was my contribution to that genre. Did you expect it to skew anything but dark? :p
> 
> Please share your thoughts below! I'd love to hear from you. Looks like I lost half of you guys from chapter one so hoping Lotor didn't scare you off or you didn't internally combust or something (that'd be quite the feat though) xD If you're still alive, kicking and reading please do say hello! Thanks so much to everyone who left a review last chapter. You guys are the real stars of this story.


	4. Act IV: Selfish Treasure

 

The transmission screen went dark then before a string of text flashed upon it:

" _You are cordially invited to see the first and last episode of 'The End of the Voltron Show' premiering universewide on transmission channel Delta23X at 2020 dorlaxes today and featuring Paladin Lance. It will be a one of a kind performance you do not wish to miss."_

"2020 dorlaxes?" Allura read aloud, aghast.

"What? What does that mean?" Hunk panicked.

"It's in twenty minutes," Pidge said, voice clipped, hunched over her tablet. "And that announcement? It's already live and gaining traction."

"Twenty minutes?" Hunk repeated. "But how?"

"It's Lotor. Does anything he do surprise you?" Pidge asked.

"Yes," Hunk said, voice surprisingly steely. "Yes, Pidge. Because like hell did I expect to see  _that,"_ he waved a hand at the screen. "To see…" A sob caught in his throat.

Shiro pulled Hunk into a tight hug and the larger boy practically wilted into the embrace and Shiro squeezed him just a little tighter, closing his eyes for the barest of moments. Watching Lance in that position... He hid his wince in Hunk's hair. He knew the sound a human made all too well when their flesh was separated from their body. He'd hoped never to hear it again and if he had to, he wished it had come from his own mouth. For that to happen to Lance… his stomach gave a little heave, not unlike Hunk's, who had thrown up twice during the transmission.

But Shiro admired the larger boy's determination to be there through the end. As he'd told Lance, they wasn't going anywhere. None of them were.

That didn't mean they weren't doing anything.

Hunk had been hugging Pidge in as much of a comfort as it was to hide the fact the girl was on her tablet and rapidly exchanging communications with the Blade of Marmora and Matt in a desperate bid to track Lance and Lotor. It also, Shiro had been grateful, prevented the young girl from witnessing the full horror that had unfolded on screen, although she had seen too much as it was.

"Incoming," Coran said of the transmission screen and accepted the call. Kolivan appeared on screen and a tick later a second chime sounded and Matt joined him in another window.

"I picked up your transmission codes," Matt said first, his normally cheerful eyes dark and serious. "It's on a relay interface and bouncing but I tracked its coordinates to the Dartik system's fifth quadrant. And," his eyes narrowed while a smirk made him look the dangerous rebel he was, "there's no way I'm wrong. This is it. Lotor is there. With…" He swallowed thickly. "With Lance."

"All active Blades were assembled and we have one about ten dobashes from that location," Kolivan said voice grave. "I have already sent out the order to mobilize." His gaze turned somewhat hesitant for the normally unflappable leader and he met Allura's eyes. "It's Keith."

Allura though nodded. "Good." For if they had to rely on outside assistance to save Lance then she would trust no one more than Keith to do so.

"This is of the utmost importance, Princess," Kolivan continued. "If Lotor's plan succeeds we will lose our allies. We will lose this war."

"Lose the war?" Shiro snarled, dropping his embrace of Hunk to face the Blade. "We'll lose Lance.  _That_ is what's most important here, Kolivan."

The Galra commander inclined his head in acknowledgement but not acceptance. They understood though. The Blades operated that the mission mattered more than the individual. It might work for them but it sure as hell didn't fly with a group like the Paladins of Voltron.

"Keith has his orders," Kolivan said. "Retrieve your Paladin, but if such a rescue is not possible he is to destroy the transmission signal to prevent the broadcast.  _That_ is what is most important for the sake of the universe."

"Then it's a good thing Keith is a Paladin first," Shiro growled. "He won't leave Lance behind."

Kolivan said nothing to that. He instead turned to Allura. "I must go and ready the Blades should there be a fallout." She nodded, understanding that for someone like Kolivan it was more realistic to always expect the worst.

"Remain in radio contact," she advised, although it was more of an order. Kolivan vanished from view.

"I should go too," Matt said. "I'm working on cutting out as many broadcast signals as I can from Delta23X in… in case." For he was not so naïve to believe this would all work out. God, he wanted it to. He'd only known the kid for a little bit but he'd grown on him. And to witness that level of torture, hear those screams as he desperately tracked the signal… it wasn't right. His approaching death was wrong too. All sorts of wrong. But reality was reality and Matt understood consequences all too well. He wasn't as apathetic as Kolivan but he understood.

And he hated that he did.

"Can we go too?" Hunk asked, looking at Allura as Matt disappeared and the large console screen went back to solid black. "To Lotor's ship with Keith?"

"We cannot," Allura whispered, looking as though it pained her.

"We can fight, Princess," Shiro said. "We can't…" he took a steadying breath. "We can't leave all of this to Keith. He's on his own against all of Lotor's forces. It's… It's a suicide mission."

"Shiro, don't say that," Hunk pleaded. Because he could not think like that. He could not imagine not just losing his best friend, his brother, but to lose Keith to? No. Not acceptable. To Allura he turned, "Why not? We can fight. We can."

They were exhausted, yes, but if it was for Lance, Hunk would do anything. Anything.

Pidge saved the princess from having to answer. "It's too far to wormhole with the reserves we have," she said, pushing her glasses up her face although her eyes betrayed her real feelings from the clinical voice. "And Allura is too weak to summon more right now."

"It is not just that," Allura sighed, "although yes, Pidge, that is true as well." She looked up, meeting each pair of despairing eyes. "If we were to go in now… I cannot guarantee we would make it out. I cannot risk any more lives. Not again."

"So we wait," Shiro bit out. "We just sit here like useless  _children,"_ he spat the word, "and expect others to endanger themselves for us?"

"I do not like it any more than you do," Allura snapped back. "That is  _my_ Paladin being tortured because of  _my_ war. Lance got caught up in all this because of me." Her eyes lowered. "This is entirely my fault."

"It's our war now, Allura," Hunk said gently, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.

"Hunk…"

"And this isn't your fault," Pidge added in, setting her laptop aside for a moment and meeting the jeweled gaze. "We didn't…" she winced. "Didn't realize what Lotor was willing to do."

"If you had been there, Allura," Coran said, and the use of her name made her realize how serious her advisor was, "You would have been killed. Of that I have no doubts."

"But I would rather offer my own life than be a part of ending Lance's," she whispered, a tear trekking down her cheek. "And what he has gone through…"

For there was no coming back from what had been done to him. This wasn't something a trip to the healing pods could fix. The pods could not regenerate flesh. They would heal the wounds, yes, but they would they would keep the mutilated ears and leave the scars carved into his face.

Her hand went up to touch her own pink marking, always a symbol of pride for her people.

Now it only brought her shame.

A metal hand descended upon her wrist and pulled hers away to reveal the softened eyes of Shiro, the rage from earlier gone. "Do not ever doubt yourself, Allura. Don't doubt Lance. We will  _all_ get through this."

She sniffled and nodded. "Yes. You are right. We will. All of us."

"That's my princess," Coran said, his hand coming to rest on her other shoulder. "What now are your orders?"

"We wait," she said, but without heavy guilt. "And we prepare. Keith will be returning to us soon with Lance and we will be ready for them. Coran, prepare a cryo-pod, two, actually in case Keith requires one as well. Pidge, track the chatter for this broadcast. Find out who are real allies are should any retreat. Hunk, please see to the shields and what you can do to enforce them should Lotor follow to engage. Shiro, you are with me to run correspondence with Kolivan and" – her grin turned sharp – "with Keith." This time her gaze as she met each pair of eyes was determined. "Let us bring Lance home."

xxx

Lance kept his eyes shut tight and his arms wrapped about himself. He did not care if he looked like a child in that moment instead of a vaunted Paladin of Voltron. He was to be dead in a matter of minutes. What did appearances mean now?

A sob he didn't even try to hold back rasped its way up his throat and he dug his face firmer into his upturned knees as though that could hide him. All it did was send new pulses of pain as ragged, raw flesh was dragged against his kneecaps.

What did he do?

The obvious answer was nothing. He was going to die and nothing could change that. He was going to die and the coalition was going to fall and with it the universe's last chance. He'd foolishly thought this was the better option; at least his death would spare Allura's and spare hope.

But it was worse. His death was going to be made into an exhibition, a  _show,_ designed to bring down the coalition. And it would work. How could they ask their allies to trust in them when they could not even save one of their own?

The only way he could possibly turn this was if Lance was able to say something, anything, before Lotor offed him. Some sort of call to arms. Something to make it look not so much like a failure of Voltron but rather an act of martyrdom.

But…

He lifted a hand gingerly to his right ear and bit back the sharp gasp as it touched upon ruined, burnt flesh.

He was not cutting much of an inspirational figure right now.

The universe knew what he looked like now, thanks to the Voltron Show. They would see the injuries that were no mere bruise or cut. They would know that this was not some quick moment of opportunity, as though the show itself didn't say that enough. They would be able to tell that the Galra Empire had held Lance prisoner for a least a period of time and he had not been rescued. He had not been saved.

And if he, one of their defenders, was not rescued then what did it mean for them?

Allura and Kolivan would run interference, offer their turn of events. But it didn't make what people saw any less true.

And actions spoke so, so much louder than words.

Another cry tore its way free and his shoulders heaved, which only aggravated his wounds. He supposed he should be grateful Lotor was letting him have these last few minutes of his pathetically short life alone.

That made him shudder and he curled tighter, feeling more exposed than ever before in this mirrored room of which he was certain the Galran prince was watching him through.

He was too afraid to even look up.

He'd been shoved none too graciously into the small room, likely used for interrogations, by Lotor who said he needed to finish some details for the "performance" but would be returning shortly. Lance had caught sight of himself immediately in one of the mirrors and it had taken more than a tick to realize that the mutilated face staring back at him was his own.

He'd hid from it then, as though that could erase its truth.

But it didn't. Even that brief glance of himself had been seared into his memory as surely as his ears. That just made another sob shudder through him. Dark red crescents had been gouged underneath his eyes, layers upon layers of flesh removed that would most certainly scar if he had lived long enough. And his ears.  _Dios._ Hearing Lotor call them 'hideous' and then Allura's reaction, as he too still clearly recalled the Princess' words about them when they'd first met, burned him more than the cauterization had.

Allura, while rather rude for a diplomat, had just been hit on by someone she didn't know and was confused and had lashed out at the first thing. She had not been cruel, not intentionally. Not in the way Lotor had, the derision mixed with amusement.

Lance had always liked his ears. They weren't too big or too small. He'd mastered wiggling them at seven and his mamá always said they reminded her of the seashells of Cuba, a longing of homesickness in her voice that she would brush away and tell him that moving to America had been necessary to have a better life and she regretted it not one bit.

His ears were not seashells anymore.

They would not remind him of home and his mamá and endless beaches. No. They only reminded him of pain and hurt and shame.

Well, at least he wouldn't have long left to think about them. And really, what were a pair of ears when compared to the downfall of the last bit of hope in the universe?

He sniffled. He was being selfish. Thinking of himself when others had it worse. Shiro had lost an arm, for  _Dios'_  sake. Pidge had lost her  _family._

He was going to lose his life.

Maybe he was being a little hard on himself.

He could try and fight when they came for him. It wouldn't do anything in the end but he should at least try. He had never been a quitter and Lotor had left him unrestrained. He had nothing left to lose now anyways, right?

Right.

He uncurled his head and lifted it to gaze at his reflection in the far wall. He kept it this time, refusing to be cowed by himself. Carefully he brought a hand up and rubbed at his lower cheek where blood and tears had dried in a sticky conglomeration. All it did was smear more and coat his fingers and so he left it, as the only cloth he had available to him was staying very firmly where it was.

His hair mostly hid his ears from this angle and despite the pain as strands brushed against the burnt flesh he had no desire to try and adjust it. Slowly he lowered his legs and then pushed himself to standing, exhaustion making him stumble. He had nearly forgotten about it in all of this, but his body had not.

Soon it could sleep forever though so until that point it was going to have to listen. Lance nodded at his reflection. Yes. That.

The door on the other wall shifted and Lance turned towards it, hands in trembling fists at his sides. Did he go for a full out assault? Wait for them to lower their guard?

It opened to reveal Lotor and only Lotor, leaning against the open doorframe with a casualness that hurt to look at.

"We're just about at curtain call," he smiled although there was nothing nice about it. "All we're missing is our star."

Lance remained standing where he was, heart racing. If he could get Lotor to come to him and somehow, somehow, overpower him he could get out, close the room on the prince and then… then what?

He'd already noted that he wasn't going to be able to access anything Galra-coded. He couldn't hack anything either to bypass that security.

But it was something. He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at the lounging prince. Maybe it would just delay the inevitable but he had said he would try.

This was trying.

He held his ground as Lotor shoved off the frame with a put upon sigh.

"Lance, Lance, Lance," Lotor murmured. "You know this defiance of yours is futile."

Despite the fact he was no longer gagged Lance remained silent. He didn't have it in him to toss out insults or declarations. He would not plead or beg. So there was no point in speaking. He had nothing to say.

"Let's have a smile, hm?" Lotor asked, just steps away. "We don't want to disappoint your adoring fans."

Lotor reached out an arm as though to put it on Lance's shoulder and Lance  _moved_.

He dropped to the floor and in the same instant planted his hands and swung his legs out in an arc, connecting solidly with Lotor's lower legs. Shiro had been showing him some more close combat moves as Lance relied too heavily on his ranged weapon and it was dangerous if he got cornered. He lacked the force to make a punch very effective against Galran armor – although Shiro did assure him that it would surely deck out a fellow human – but his legs were strong. Very strong.

The prince let out an undignified yelp of surprise as his feet were swept out from beneath him and Lance sprung off his hands in the same instant, their faces passing just inches from one another.

Lotor hit the ground with a thump at the same time Lance was already sprinting for the open door, bare feet stinging painfully at the force of which they thundered across the floor.

There was a growl from behind him but Lance did not look back, first foot crossing the threshold and tasting freedom.

And then it was gone.

A body slammed into him from behind and Lance let out a shout as he was tackled, barely managing to get his hands up in front to take the brunt of the fall. He made to get up but the full weight of the Galran prince crushed down on him and a pair of hands pushed his shoulders into the floor while a pair of legs straddled his lower torso and legs.

Lance snarled, trying to rotate his body to loosen Lotor's hold, but the Galran only pressed down harder and Lance gasped in pain as the heel of a hand dug into the back of his neck.

"That," Lotor hissed, breathless, "was not a good idea."

"I thought it was," Lance managed, still trying to wriggle free.

In answer Lotor lifted Lance's shoulders slightly up and then slammed him down, so hard that Lance's forehead smashed into the ground and he screamed as his raw face took the brunt of the hit.

"I had not wanted to do this," Lotor said, voice muffled above the ringing in his ears. "But you leave me no choice."

Lance felt his right arm being wrenched free from where it had fallen under his body and then his left. He struggled uselessly, but even with Lotor's hands now occupied his weight was unrelenting.

Something cold was being clamped around his wrists and he jerked again as he realized he was being bound. No. No no  _no._

"No," he whispered aloud. "No," he repeated louder. He strained to kick his legs but Lotor's own were pining them in tight.

"Your spirit is something to be commended certainly," Lotor said, and suddenly he was leaning forward, chest pressing against Lance's back until a slim purple hand was cupping his face from behind, "but not needed." His thumb caressed against Lance's jaw and he stiffened.

"Get off me." His voice was quiet, pitched low and he hoped it hid the fear that was shuddering its way through him. Not of death. No, he had already accepted that. But this… Lotor's hand brushed against his jaw again, right below his lip.

There was a soft chuckle and then, "No." If anything Lotor pressed more of his weight down then, his other hand descending into Lance's hair and twisting it painfully in long fingers.

Lance did not speak again, the words being swallowed up by the sick feeling from earlier, intensifying as Lotor's hand rose further up his face in what should have been a tender hold but only made him scared.

"You are so beautiful," Lotor murmured. "I will miss you so. Truly, it is a shame that a creature like you should meet death so soon. But at least your youth and beauty will remain eternal."

Lance shuddered, the retort of 'I won't miss you' dying on his lips.

"However," the hand clenched painfully on his cheek and Lance whimpered as it brushed against one of the marks, "your appearance is filthy. All of that blood marring your new features. It is simply unacceptable. After all, we can't have our star looking anything but his best."

The grip in his hair tightened and Lance found his head being yanked back, baring his neck forward. Lotor shifted back some so that Lance's chest lifted off the ground too and he fought back the moan as his body contorted in the hold.

Something brushed against his face and he flinched at the coldness, realizing a second later it was just a damp cloth. A cloth being wielded by Lotor and he stiffened again as it rubbed against his cheek, clearing blood and dried tears away. He brought it further up then, ghosting across the wound and Lance flinched.

"There now, all better," Lotor said a moment later, pulling the now dirty cloth away. "You are ready to make your debut."

But he did not move except to hum thoughtfully, his hand tightening even more in Lance's hair and drawing a choked gasp as Lance's head was wrenched further back.

"Perhaps," Lotor said after a moment, "there is another course of action we might take. After all," his hand was back and brushing against Lance's cheek, "you have endeared yourself to me."

The coil of  _wrong_ reared stronger and Lance struggled to breathe.

Lotor's hand loosened in his hair, and Lance took a full inhalation, wheezing at the action. He felt Lotor shift ever so slightly, the weight lessening and he tensed, preparing to do  _something_ but hands were on his shoulders then and twisting him around so he we was now lying on his back atop his bound arms and Lotor was looming large above, straddling Lance's stomach and looking far, far too pleased.

"I was thinking," Lotor said, one smooth hand coming back towards Lance's face and Lance bared his teeth at it.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, summoning up the last of courage he had left, trying so hard not to give into the repulsive fear that was trying to gain hold.

Lotor laughed, amused and that was even more frightening. "No," he said, just like last time. And then both hands were there, cupping Lance's face entirely in his hold. They squeezed, long fingers pressing against the Altean markings and Lance hated the whine that was pulled from him.

"Now, I was thinking," Lotor continued. "I can still call off this performance if you wish it so. You may keep your life… but it will belong to me." Lance trembled. "And it shall be mine to do with whatever I please." He dug his nails this time into the marks, bringing up new wells of blood. "I collect beautiful things, Lance, and you would fit so nicely into my gallery. You see," he leaned forward, nose nearly brushing against Lance's and the boy felt his breath hitch, "I can be selfish too."

No. Hell no. Lance would rather die then… then…

But…

But if he didn't die on the broadcast then that meant… that meant the Coalition still had a chance. They would not lose the faith of their allies. They would retain that hope.

They could still win the war.

His breath caught.

He could stop all of it. All he had to do was…

He brought his eyes up to meet Lotor's, the predatory yellow just inches from his own face and the leer that adorned those lips.

He swallowed thickly.

And then spat right into the purple face.

Lotor jerked back, nails raking down the side of Lance's face and Lance took the moment of surprise for all it was worth, throwing all his weight to the right to try and unseat Lotor. He jostled the larger Galran but it was not enough and a second later he was being slammed back onto the floor, hand digging into his shoulder.

Lotor did not look angry, not like Lance had expected as the Galran dabbed at the bridge of his nose with the bloody cloth he had wiped Lance's cheek with. And then quicker than a blink he jammed the rag into Lance's mouth and he choked as the taste of blood and material struck the back of his throat.

"I see you have refused my generous offer," Lotor said over the sound of Lance coughing and trying desperately not to throw up. "So be it. I shall treasure your memory then." He smirked then, a dangerous thing. "Well, along with your corpse I suppose. For even in death you will remain beautiful and so you will remain mine."

Lotor stood in one motion and before Lance could even think to try and kick out he was being hauled to his feet by his hair, eyes blurring once more with reflexive tears, and then past that, toes skimming the ground.

Lotor brought him to his own eye level, showing no apparent strain at holding him with a single arm. "I shall not be selfish," the prince said as Lance squirmed like a worm on a hook no matter the pain it caused, "and instead I shall share you with the entire universe in the most beautiful finale they have ever known."

"Come now," he said, lowering Lance just enough for his feet to fall flush with the ground before he yanked him forward and Lance had no choice but to stumble along lest he be dragged. A sharp smile was thrown to him. "It's showtime."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Lotor, no pretty addition to your gallery of treasures. Home stretch here. I wonder how Lance gets out of this... or does he? 
> 
> Also, um, wow, the amazing Jas (onesmolhurt) drew Altean!Lance and it's just... My poor boy. My poor, beautiful boy. I am dying of happiness. Check it out on [her Tumblr here](http://onesmolhurt.tumblr.com/post/171314886994/just-just-take-care-of-yourselves-p-please). 
> 
> Enjoy? Please do drop a review below!


	5. Act V: The Final Curtain

 

Lance gave another futile tug on the chain, arms straining but it held firm just as it had the last ten times he'd tried.

He sat back on his heels as they'd chained him to kneel, head spinning as it fought for air from the exertion and he slumped sideways, making his shoulders pull uncomfortably.

He didn't care.

He'd had a chance to stop this, to keep the spark of hope alive. But he hadn't taken it.

He couldn't take it.

He shivered, the sound making the chains rattle. Lotor's words were poison. Even if he had said yes, agreed to being Lotor's – what, exactly? Pet? Slave? Toy? – it didn't mean Lotor would not turn around and do this the next day. Next week. Next month. He could change his mind at any time.

But he should have. He hung his head. He should have. No matter what it had meant for him he should have taken the offer. It would have given his team more time to find him, more time to launch a rescue.

They could have saved him. Or maybe they couldn't have. They had never before been able to find Lotor after all, what would have made this time any different? Desperation? He let out a muffled sob disguised as a laugh. No. They wouldn't have come.

They weren't coming now.

This wasn't going to be a rescue like Allura's where they all swarmed Zarkon's base, naïve and hopeful. Lotor was not like Zarkon. This entire thing it was what, twenty minutes? Not the hours they'd had to plan and engage to save Allura.

And Lance knew the status of the castle. Allura had been in a cryo-pod, should have still been in one. Even if they'd known where to go they couldn't wormhole. Their Lions were battered and bruised as surely as their pilots and everyone was running on fumes.

No rescue was coming.

No one was coming.

And he accepted that. He'd always known death was a possibility. Maybe not right away. At first the entire thing had felt like something out of a story; magical Lions and alien princesses and cool weapons.

But when Sendak attacked, not the first time but the second, when Lance had been blown up and awoken only to hear Shiro's screams as he was tortured and Sendak taunting Pidge to come rescue them. He had known then that this was no game. People could die.

And now he was going to.

Only it wasn't just his life. He was taking the universe with him.

He choked on his next cry, hunching over as far as the chain pulling his arms out behind him would allow. He'd really messed up this time.

A life for a life, Lotor had tried to bargain.

Lance wished he'd just been killed then.

The ground rumbled below him and he flinched, but the platform he'd been tied do did not rise up. Not yet.

He was, Lotor told him, going to be the star after all. Lotor was already up on his 'stage' and addressing the universe but was planning to bring Lance out after his little speech. He'd left him a timer so Lance could prepare for his cue… as though he had a choice. It read three dobashes now and the purple digits blurred in front of him as new tears filled his eyes.

Three minutes until he debuted.

Three minutes until the universe lost hope in the Voltron Alliance.

Three minutes until he died.

They were going to be the longest three minutes of the rest of his short life.

xxx

Keith moved like a silent shadow down the halls of Lotor's ship. Silent save the ragged pounding of his heartbeat that was making it difficult to listen for footsteps and he cursed at it to shut up.

That did not help.

Every hair on him was prickling with nerves and he had never felt this nervous in his life.

Because this was not just some Blade mission. This was no data retrieval or scouting assignment. This was not the freeing some nameless prisoners.

This was rescuing Lance. Keith didn't give a damn about the rest Kolivan had tried to tell him. Something about destroying the broadcast technology if he was unable to retrieve Lance before he was paraded in front of the universe in a sick game.

Kolivan had been quick on details and Keith had been short on time so he only knew the bare bones. During an earlier fight Lance had been kidnapped by Lotor and now Lotor was going to kill Lance on screen to make some statement about the Voltron Alliance and for the sake of the Alliance Lance had to be rescued before that happened.

It would be best if he was capable of watching the broadcast for timing purposes, but he'd been running a simple infiltration mission prior to this on a Galra base and had only had the bare necessities on his person and that did not include the small hologram screens that allowed them to pick up public broadcasts.

He did have a timer until the broadcast was to launch and it showed… two dobashes. Quiznak. He still didn't even have any idea where he was going and it was a miracle he had made it this far.

Matt's coordinates were spot on and Keith was beyond thankful they'd found Pidge's brother and roped him and his brain into their group. The Paladins group, he corrected himself. He… he wasn't a Paladin anymore. He hurried past that thought before it could take root. Not now.

Pidge had shared her cloaking technology with the Blades and he'd been able to get his cruiser into the Galran ship airspace without incident and dock it on the outside of the ship. How, exactly, he was going to get Lance to it without the other suffocating in the vastness of space was still a question he was puzzling but first step was retrieve Lance and he'd handle details later. He'd ducked in through a ventilation shaft and was now making his way through the silent halls of Lotor's ship without any real idea of where he was going and he needed to fix that or Lance was as good as dead with help possibly just feet away.

A sudden sharp beep inside his mask made Keith freeze on his next silent footfall forward. He knew that tone. It was the one that Pidge and Hunk had rigged into his helmet to allow private communication via a channel that Pidge claimed could not be hacked.

He picked it up without hesitation.

"Keith, are you there?" Allura's accented tones sounded as regal as ever but even still he could hear the undercurrent of fear.

"Yes," he said simply. "But I don't know where I'm going."

"Find an access panel," Pidge said, voice higher pitched as it was when she was scared. "I'll scan through your suit. Hurry!"

Keith picked up his pace, only just managing not to careen around a blind corner as getting caught now would be the end. He spotted one on the wall next to a large door and raced to it, slamming his hand and letting it read his Galra signature.

There was the sound of rapid typing in his ear and Pidge gasped. "Okay, you've got a map," and true to her word the sensor on his arm was blinking and he quickly loaded it. "It's a small ship," she continued. "Prisoner holdings are down the hall on your right."

Keith heard cursing then and his eyes widened. Was that Hunk?

"The show's starting," Allura's voice came back. "Hurry, Keith."

"He won't be in a cell," Keith said, voice steadier than he thought. "What kind of room is Lotor in?"

He almost heard Pidge slap her head.

"A large chamber," Allura described. "Tall ceilings, but enclosed. Not a hangar."

"Receiving room, got it," Pidge said and the map blinked on Keith's arm.

"There's a stage," Shiro jumped in, voice tense. "With a metal covering. They're likely going to bring Lance up through the floor. Go down a level."

"Storage rooms," Pidge confirmed and a new dot blinked.

"Can you patch me in?" Keith asked, already moving. "I need to hear where Lotor is at."

A second later a different voice permeated his comms and Keith grimaced at it.  _"—Prince Lotor of the great and powerful Galra Empire. I graciously thank all of you for joining me this evening –"_

Keith tuned it out as he followed the blinking dot that was at least a minute's run from his current location. He made to pass by a large door but paused, feeling  _something_ drawing him to it.

It was like in the desert, he thought. Purple eyes narrowed. It was  _exactly_ like the desert. His instincts had never led him astray before and he didn't think they were going to do so now.

He pressed his hand to the keypad to allow him access, but rather than opening right away it glowed yellow. "Pidge," he whispered, "what is this?"

"Not the storage room," came the sharp answer. A tick later, "It's a hanger. They keypad isn't letting you in because the room has a… a pulse? Current? Something in it."

"Can you turn it off?"

And Pidge did not question the why. She too had learned that Keith's instincts were good ones. A few precious ticks later the light on the panel went back to purple and Keith threw open the door.

He was not surprised to see the Blue Lion in there.

He was surprised to feel the utter despair and anger washing off her as she struggled to her feet, metal joints creaking.

"Blue?" he breathed and the Lion roared, the sound echoing around the room and Keith winced, looking over his shoulder for sentries.

She looked at him, almost seemed to give a nod and turned to face the far wall, tail gun charging. She was escaping, Keith realized. And… "You'll get us?" he asked and she let out another roar. He allowed himself a grin. Transportation problem solved.

He hurried out of the room before he got sucked into the vacuum of space and continued down the hall.

"— _Alliance believes themselves to be infallible. That is why tonight I have a special guest here with me to show you the error in this thinking. For all those listening, for all those thinking perhaps of joining the Voltron Alliance—"_

Lotor was still rambling but not for long, Keith knew. He'd mentioned guest. Any second now Lance was going to show on stage and it was going to be too late. Keith had no doubt Generals were flanking their prince and while he considered himself an excellent swordsman he could not take on all five at once and rescue Lance.

Except they weren't all with Lotor, for there was one general standing outside the door that Pidge had earmarked.

Zethrid, he recognized. Incredibly strong but lacking a little in strategy and tactics. The perfect guard and one Keith did not have time to fight. He yanked one of the pouches off his uniform, palming the stun grenades the Blade of Marmora had given him.

She noticed him as he came barreling down the hall, her hand flying to her neck where their communications rested, no doubt to alert Lotor.

Keith didn't give her the chance.

He chucked every single grenade he had. His aim had never been anything to brag about but one flew true and struck the radio unit just as her finger went to press on it and the entire thing exploded with a bang of light and no sound.

Zethrid screamed, stumbling backwards as more and more went off around her. Keith did not wait to see her collapse, but flung open the door she had been in front of with a desperation he had not felt since finding Shiro injured and being flung about on the planet following their bad wormhole jump.

And, he thought seeing Lance, this was worse.

This was so much worse.

Lance was kneeling, head bowed and arms wrenched behind him chained to a stake.

And he was moving upwards, a hole slowly opening in the ceiling above him that Keith had no doubt let straight to Lotor.

"Lance!" Keith screamed, the mask flashing off his face and hood falling back and Lance jerked his head up.

And God. Oh God. Keith faltered for half a second as he caught sight of the marks that shone with blood on Lance's face, dripping with tears.

But the platform was rising and if he didn't have time to freeze.

Pulling his luxite blade as he ran Keith leapt onto the platform, already several feet off the ground, and swung it without hesitation in a sweeping arc at the chains connecting Lance's hands and feet to the stake.

In the same motion he turned and tackled Lance off the platform, both hitting the metal floor with a thud and Keith mentally apologized for using Lance as his landing pad. The platform continued its journey upwards and it would be mere seconds before Lotor realized no one was attached to it.

"Can you run?" Keith asked, sitting up and slicing through the cuffs that held Lance's hands behind him and then repeating it to his feet. He blanched as he saw in the moment he looked up that manacles weren't the only thing that had been cut. His stomach heaved on Lance's behalf at the mutilated ears.

His eyes widened in horrified realization as he put together the pieces of the injuries a moment later.

They'd tried to make Lance look Altean.

_Why?_

What the quiznak had he missed?

Lance reached up and pulled a blood-covered cloth out of his mouth and Keith's heart stuttered– was he bleeding internally? – but gave a raspy, "Yes," and was already clambering to his feet. His eyes were blown wide with disbelief as though he couldn't believe Keith was actually there.

Keith could scarcely believe it either. That had been too close.

And, judging by the loud yelling  _– "Turn it off! Find h—"_ before the broadcast cut off Lotor was going to be on them any second.

"Come on," he said, dashing out of the room, taking lead. He unhooked the blaster that Kolivan forced him to take and tossed it backwards to Lance, his sword still out. "I've got him," he said into the Castle's frequency and he heard the cries of relief. "Not out of it yet."

"Where are we going?" Lance panted behind him.

"You tell me," Keith said. "She's your Lion after all."

"B-Blue?" Lance stuttered and would have come to a complete halt if Keith hadn't reached back and grabbed his arm and yanked him forward.

Lance cast his mind out, frantically reaching for that connection that had all but been lost.

He was nearly bowled over with the intensity as they connected . Her despair hurt him, her pain and guilt were immeasurable and felt the apology, the horror that she had caused him to suffer flow through. Blue bottled it all in a second, knowing now was not the time, and instead sent him a line to her.

"This way," Lance shouted, pivoting down a hall Keith had just passed, feet aching with every footfall but he forced himself to run even harder. Blue called to him and he followed her, halting only when he reached a coded door that blocked his way.

Keith was there a tick later, slamming his hand on the console so hard it flickered but it did open. Lance shot out the panel as they rushed through and the door slammed shut behind them. They were in a hangar, Lance realized. He felt Blue's intent then and barely shouted, "Mask!" before a gaping hole opened in the wall in front of them.

Space was cold and cruel and Lance managed to suck in half a breath before he was pulled out through the hole, Keith right behind him with blasters activated and Marmora mask firmly in place.

As he was tossed head over heels in the abyss between the ship and Blue, Lance saw Lotor arrive in the hangar.

He hung back, gripping the door so as not to be pulled forward. But even this far away Lance could make out his face; his yellow eyes were narrowed, but his lips… they were curled up in a dark, dangerous smile. He caught Lance's gaze and it widened into a promise that Lance did not want to understand.

Lance's body spiraled around and Lotor was lost to his sight.

He was instead greeted by the cool blue and teal interior of Blue's mouth and he crashed into the floor, Keith making a more graceful landing on his feet.

"Blue," Lance whispered and she needed no second urging. He felt them take off at near light speed and he collapsed fully onto the floor, head ringing and breath hard to come by.

A pair of hands descended on his shoulders and it took all he had not to flinch away. But Keith's hands in rough gloves were nothing like Lotor's long smooth ones and after a second he gratefully accepted the assistance and Keith helped him to sit along one of the low curved walls of Blue's mouth.

"I've got him," Keith said quietly into his hood and Lance tipped his head back against the wall, exhaustion pressing in as Keith updated the others. "Yeah, we are." A pause. "Can you tell Kolivan? Mhm. We'll join you at the Castle." A longer pause and Keith nodded. "All right. Be there soon."

Keith dissolved his mask and pushed back his hood and joined him against the wall.

"It's going to be about twenty minutes," he said. "Allura's wormholing the castle closer to us but she can't quite make it."

Lance gave a small nod of confirmation.

"Are… are you okay?" Keith sounded unsure and Lance wanted to reassure him but really? He didn't know.

"Cold," Lance settled on, a violent shiver shaking his frame as now that the adrenaline had faded he was reminded that he was wearing almost nothing and now in the coldness of space. That was true, at the very least.

"Didn't you keep a thousand of blankets in here?" Keith asked, voice light and, Lance realized, pointedly not looking at his face but keeping his gaze towards the top of Lance's head.

He swallowed thickly, knowing why that was. "Yeah. Dunno if Allura tossed them though."

Keith nodded and clambered to his feet. "Hang on a tick."

He returned nearly a dobash later, three in his arms along with the emergency first aid kit they kept aboard.

"Here," Keith dumped the blankets unceremoniously and sat back down, the kit still in his hands. Lance uttered a quiet thanks and set about spreading two out over his legs after pulling them up to his chest and brought the third about his shoulders, hands clutching to keep it closed.

He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall. In the quiet he could feel Blue again, her worry and guilt painful.

"It's not your fault, beautiful," he murmured, heard Keith start next to him and then settle once he realized who Lance was talking to.

Blue pressed in on him then and he shook his head. "It's not," he repeated. She did not seem assuaged and so he took a different line. "You okay? I know you got hit too."

And the swell of love and compassion and pride that filled their link pulled a small smile to his face and chased away some of the cold. She sent an affirmative in all of that and a mental nuzzle that had his smile widening as she tried to comfort him.

"Thanks, girl," he whispered. "I love you too."

He went quiet then and even with his eyes closed he could feel Keith's stare. Was it at the marks? His ears? He winced at the thought of them, which made the dull ache flare.

"Do you want me to bandage them?" Keith asked, cutting into the silence.

Lance pried open his eyes and Keith touched his fingers to his own face beneath his eye, a cautiousness to the gesture that Lance was not used to seeing from the mullet.

He must look pretty pathetic if even Keith was that concerned.

"Are they bleeding?" he asked after a moment and Keith shifted closer to look and Lance hated that his immediate reaction was to pull back.

"No," Keith said slowly, bright purple eyes going to Lance's. "They're not."

"Then no point." After all, Allura was going to insist he go into a pod to heal the injuries even if there was no healing these wounds.

Keith was looking at him still, gaze searching and Lance had to look away first from the intensity.

"Did he hurt you?" Keith finally asked and Lance knew in that moment Keith was not referring to his face or ears.

He gave a minute shake of his head even as his eyes pricked with tears.

"Did he hurt you?" Keith repeated and in his peripheral Lance saw the other boy's hands clench.

"No," he managed, voice small, averting his gaze. "N-no."

"Lance…"

"Just…" He felt his face flame. "Just…" He brought one of his hands up and pressed it to his cheek below the wound, the coldness nice. "Touches," he finally whispered and felt another shudder pass through him at the memory of Lotor's hands. "I… I don't want to talk about it."

"… All right," Keith said quietly. He looked uncomfortable but continued on, "I'm here though, if you ever… ever want to."

Lance felt a small, real smile then even as a tear stung his cheek. "Thanks, Mullet."

They lapsed into quiet, Lance shifting in his pile of blankets to try and get warmer as the chill was not disappearing as it should.

"Keith?" he whispered after a moment and the other boy angled his head in his direction. "Can I have a hug?"

"A hug?" He said it like it was a foreign word and it pulled another tiny smile from Lance.

"I'm cold," was all he said and Keith's entire expression softened.

Keith shifted to close the space between them and his right arm carefully lifted to wrap behind Lance and light upon his opposite shoulder. Lance would normally have snuggled in – Keith was  _warm –_ but his injured ear told him that wasn't such a good idea. So instead he bumped their shoulders and tilted his head back again on the wall.

They remained like that until Keith murmured quietly, "We're here," and Lance felt Blue touch down. Keith disentangled his arm and swept to his feet in one swift movement. He held out a hand and Lance gratefully took it, allowing himself to be pulled to standing. He kept hold of the blanket draped over his shoulders though, shivering again as all the ones ensconcing his legs fell away.

Blue sent a wave of reassurance and love and then she opened her mouth and the ramp extended. Lance took a steadying breath and then made his way down, Keith following like a protective guard just behind.

They were all waiting for him in Blue's hangar. Lance had barely made it off the ramp before Hunk was there, sweeping him into a hug with a sob.

Lance relaxed into it immediately, pressing his forehead against Hunk's broad chest and soaking in the warmth and strength that Hunk always projected. A smaller set of arms wrapped about his lower waist and he felt a pair of cold-rimmed glasses press into his side. He freed his arms and wrapped one about Hunk's girth and the other to rest lightly on Pidge's back.

"I'm okay," he whispered, needing to reassure them of this even if it wasn't entirely true. Hunk only tightened his embrace and he felt Pidge's tiny fingers dig almost bruisingly into him. He could have remained there, forever, but more footsteps were approaching and he couldn't hide away like this.

He gave Pidge's shoulder a squeeze and she released him and stepped back, rubbing at damp eyes under her glasses and looking much, much too young. Hunk wasn't quite so easily swayed, but he eventually lowered his arms and moved aside as Shiro came up, his large hands descending on Lance's shoulders in what normally was a familiar, comfortable hold but made him give a tiny start. He could feel Keith take a step forward behind him and Hunk's questioning glance at the action.

"You're all right?" Shiro asked and Lance managed a small nod, clutching his blanket back to him and concentrating on his leader.

"I will be," he added to that.

"You were very brave," Shiro murmured and Lance felt hot tears forming. "I'm so, so proud of you, Lance."

Coran was there then and his arms enveloped Lance so gently that he could no longer suppress the tears.

"My dear boy," his voice broke and Lance let out a soft cry. He felt a kiss being planted atop his head and he wrapped his own arms tightly about Coran, the blanket falling away from his shoulders but he didn’t care as he pressed himself into the comfort Coran always offered.

"Lance." Allura sounded just a pace away and Coran released him so he could see the princess. She was hovering just beyond; hands twisted in one another and her jewel eyes shining bright. "Lance…"

"I guess," he said quietly, trying for a smile but it came out a sob, "they're not hideous anymore."

"Oh," she rushed to him then, throwing her arms about him and burying her face against his shoulder. Lance reached up and clung to her just as desperately. "Oh, Lance," she whispered. "They never were."

She lifted her face to meet his, eyes tracing the new scars that decorated his cheeks and then to the pointed, ruined stubs of flesh that remained of his ears.

"They are not now," she continued. "They are… they are still beautiful. Just like you."

Beautiful.

Lance's knees buckled and sent them both to the floor. As the concerned sounds of his team surrounded him, worried hands pressing in, all he could do was blankly stare, sickness coiling inside him as a smooth voice whispered and a phantom hand caressed his face.

" _You are so beautiful."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I’m so proud of myself; a full-fledged fic in under 25k? This was a true, dark pleasure to write and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I and Lotor did. I’m pretty pleased with how it all came together and the ending makes my toes curls with delight. 
> 
> That said, it doesn’t mean I’m not open to following this storyline into a bit of recovery if there’s interest from you guys. I sort of feel like since I made this Altean!Lance it’s my job to nurture it and give it a good resolution. Maybe? You may have noticed _Razzle_ is now part of a series, “Ears Like Seashells (Not Anymore)” and I’d recommending subscribing to it or following me on [Tumblr, icypantherwrites,](http://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com/) if you are interested in an after arc. No timeline for when any of that will (or if) happen, but it’s a definite possibility. 
> 
> Also, fun fact! Lotor’s dialogue ended four of five chapters. He’s just so great for cliffhangers apparently xD
> 
> Thank you to all who commented last chapter and special thank yous to those who have been along for the entire ride and left such lovely words. I truly appreciate it!
> 
> Pretty please do leave a comment with your final thoughts of the story. They mean the world to me and a comment is literally the best way to tell an author “thank you” for the fic. Can't wait to hear from you! ♥


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